


How Far We've Come

by hrrytomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Bullying, Camp Half-Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Harry son of Demeter, Hate to Love, Liam son of Hephaestus, Louis son of Hermes, Love/Hate, M/M, Niall son of Apollo, Prank Wars, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Zayn son of Aphrodite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrrytomlinson/pseuds/hrrytomlinson
Summary: “This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1Diamondinthesun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Diamondinthesun/gifts).



> hi 1Diamondinthesun! I really hope you enjoy this, i’m so nervous about it LOL! i felt like your prompts were all already describing stories that exist in the fandom already, so i really tried coming up with a completely unique story based off your summer camp prompt. I’ve always wanted to write a Percy Jackson AU and this felt like the time to do it. 
> 
> you don’t need any knowledge on the PJO universe to enjoy this fic, I tried describing everything the reader needs to know, but maybe at least greek mythology knowledge would help you? idk. on the reverse side, i may have stretched some truths and facts of the PJO universe to work in my favor for this fic when it came to the camp and how it functions and how the lives of demigods are structured. anyway! this is just a fun, angsty summer camp fic with a unique twist. a big thanks to my wonderful betas for making everything polished and smooth! 
> 
> if you’re a person who likes visuals, a map of the camp can be found [here](http://rickriordan.com/content/plugins/rick-riordan-helper/assets/images/camp-half-blood.png). if you’re a person who likes sounds, then here are a list of songs that have inspired me while writing. these songs don’t necessary reflect the plot AT ALL but are songs that i listened to approximately 8 years ago when i was actually a part of the PJO fandom. it made me feel super nostalgic. 
> 
> How Far We’ve Come - Matchbox Twenty  
> Circles - Hollywood Undead  
> Crashed - Daughtry  
> Breath - Breaking Benjamin  
> Run - Snow Patrol  
> Savior - Rise Against  
> Over and Over - Three Days Grace  
> Last to Know - Three Days Grace  
> Last Stand - Adelitas Way
> 
> here you'll find my [tumblr](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/) and here you can find my [rebloggable fic post](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/post/165455137700/how-far-weve-come-by-hrrytomlinson-for)!! thanks for reading and i hope you like it - if you do please leave some kudos and comments or reblog the post? xx

Louis dreams a lot. Well, almost all demigods do. Good dreams, bad dreams, prophetic dreams. It’s part of the whole My Parent Is An Immortal package. Louis is lucky because he’s never had a bad dream. His dreams are usually normal or boring, or sometimes he wakes up forgetting them altogether. But that’s different tonight. 

Louis wakes up in a cold sweat, out of breath and panting hard as he bolts upright in his bed. He feels scared, terrified, absolutely hysterical over what he just dreamed. He doesn’t remember much, but what he does remember is fire. The colors of orange and yellow burning away and destroying something pure. He doesn’t remember what it  was, but it was beautiful. He remembers a person too, with eyes the color of green. As green as new foliage, as green as fresh cut grass. The eyes were full of sadness and anger and the only thing Louis could tell before he woke up was that the sadness and anger was directed at him. 

A chill shoots through Louis’ body as he shivers in his bed. It’s only the first of February, maybe he shouldn’t be sleeping with his shirt off just yet, but the anticipation for summer is simply killing Louis. He knows this summer is going to be a good one—he can  _ feel _ it. Cabin Eleven has been way too quiet lately, most of Louis’ mischievous and loud half-siblings back home for school. 

Louis tries to go back to bed after such a weird dream, but it proves difficult until he starts thinking of those beautiful green eyes. This time, though, he tries imagining what they would look like if they weren’t full of sadness or anger. That image puts him back to sleep right away and he peacefully stays under until the sun is high in the sky. 

☤

“What do you think it means? This is the,” Louis closes his eyes and bites his lip, counting in his head, “fourth time I’ve had this dream.” 

Maddison hums as she wanders around her cabin, organizing stacks of books and bundles of paper and scrolls that her half-siblings have just decided to leave lying around. She flicks her perpetually messy blonde hair over her shoulder as she goes, her stormy hazel eyes critically examining everything she picks up. “Four times you say? And it’s always fire and those same green eyes?”

“Yes! I don’t know what to think of it, Madds,” Louis sighs from where he’s lying on his friend’s bed. “It’s really starting to bother me.” 

Maddison joins Louis on her bed, lying beside him. They both stare up at the ceiling, unsure of what to say. 

“I may be one of the smartest campers here, Lou, but I honestly don’t know what to make of this.” 

Louis leaves Cabin Six shortly after, not really finding any comfort in the cluttered library walls. The gray exterior of Athena’s cabin can be quite deceptive with it’s pure, plain white curtains drifting in the wind and the owl design over the door, but once you step inside it’s completely different. Cabin Six is a library that puts all other libraries to shame. The bookcases reach the ceiling and cover almost every available inch of wall space. Work benches and tables clutter most of the area and there are  _ things _ everywhere. Anything from blueprints and armor to 3D models and old war maps cover the tables. Sometimes it’s just too much for Louis to handle. 

Louis makes his way across the field, passing the fire pit in the center, to his own cabin. Hermes’ cabin is nothing truly spectacular, but Louis loves it. The wraparound porch and the worn, brown wood exterior gives it a much more homey feeling than some of the other cabins. Cabin Eleven used to be ridiculously overpopulated, filled to the brim with all of Hermes’ sons and daughters  _ and _ unclaimed demigods. The lack of cabins for minor gods and goddesses left many demigods unclaimed, leaving them ignored by their godly parent and without knowledge of where they belong, but luckily that changed long, long ago. The continual addition of cabins for minor gods and goddesses allowed for more demigod children to be claimed right away, relieving the stress that used to be put on the children of Hermes to house them. 

Louis gives a quick nod to the caduceus that hangs over the front door of his home, a little gesture of hello to his father, before walking inside and dropping onto his bed. As Head Counselor of the Hermes Cabin, Louis has to do cabin inspection in a few hours, but for right now he pushes his responsibilities to the side and decides to take a nap. 

☤

The ache in Louis’ arms is familiar and welcome, especially after the week he’s had. It’s been a few good months since the dreams started, but they’re only increasing in frequency and intensity as the summer months grow closer and closer. Maddison wants Louis to talk to Chiron about them, but Louis would rather do arts and crafts with the Ares boys than talk to the centaur about his dreams. 

The art of swordfighting, however, is the perfect distraction from the burning hot flames and piercing green color that continue to haunt his mind during the night. 

Metal clashes against metal as Louis’ sword collides against Zayn’s. He always puts up a good fight, but Louis’ one of the best fighters at Camp Half-Blood, so it comes to no surprise that Louis’ next graceful maneuver disarms Zayn effortlessly. 

“C’mon man,” Zayn huffs, bending over to rest his palms against his knees, lungs working hard to retrieve lost oxygen. 

The sun is beating down hard over the swordfighting arena. It’s uncommonly warm for early May. Louis usually wouldn’t complain, but it’s a slight inconvenience when the sun is directly overhead during his practice session.  

Louis wipes the sweat from his brow and adjusts his chestplate, chuckling at Zayn. “Try harder, I know you can.” Louis bends over to retrieve Zayn’s lost sword and hands it back over to his friend. 

Zayn simply grunts in response. 

Sons of Aphrodite aren’t usually the best at swordfighting. Zayn likes to prove everyone wrong, and he does. He’s just not as good as Louis and Louis intends to keep it that way.

After a quick breather and a water break, they’re back at it again. This time Louis is on defense, letting Zayn have the upperhand. Every maneuver is still effortless for the son of Hermes and instead of improving his craft and challenging his opponent, he lets his mind wander. Which is never a good thing. It especially hasn’t been a good thing recently. 

“We haven’t gotten a new kid in quite a long time,” Louis comments, dodging to the right as Zayn thrusts forward. 

Zayn makes a noise in the back of his throat, brows furrowed. He’d much rather plan his next move of attack than engage his dumbass friend in conversation in the middle of battle. 

“Summer is coming soon, so maybe we’ll see some new faces around here,” Louis muses.

Zayn takes a step back momentarily, giving Louis the perfect opening for a jab of his own, but the lucky bastard blocks it in just enough time. They clash back and forth for a minute or so until Louis falls back into defense, giving Zayn time to regroup. 

“Let’s at least hope they’re claimed,” Louis continues. “I don’t want any pouty twelve-year-olds with daddy issues cramming into the bunks of the Hermes Cabin just because their parent hasn’t claimed them yet.” 

Zayn’s stance changes slightly and Louis’ lightning-fast eyesight can’t help but notice the hole in his friend’s defense. He’s tired and bored of their back and forth anyway, his wrist and arm hurting in the best way possible, so he decides to finally lunge forward and strike against Zayn’s armor, ending yet another match in a victory. 

“Did you seriously just have a whole conversation with yourself?” Zayn asks, sword now on the ground by his side, the sleeve of his tunic wiping the sweat from his forehead. Louis stares at his very obvious beauty, even though he’s covered in sweat and grime from hours of fighting in the arena. Louis shakes his head and scoffs a little bit. Zayn’s not  _ that _ pretty.

“Maybe,” Louis remembers to answer before turning and making his way towards the showers, leaving Zayn behind to put away the practice supplies. 

Louis stands in the stall, his forehead pressed against the tiled wall as he lets the hot water beat down over his neck and back. The water is too hot, but Louis doesn’t even flinch. He lets it numb his skin as goosebumps begin to rise on his legs. 

Louis feels both older and younger than twenty-one. He looks younger, his body is in top shape and he knows his face is physically attractive, but he feels beyond his years. The things he has seen, the things he’s experienced, the people he’s seen come and go; it all takes a toll on your mental state. 

Sometimes Louis finds himself asking  _ why me? _ Why can he stay on this godforsaken Earth one more day when kids half his age are being taken down by evil, unforgiving monsters? Why is he  the lucky one who gets to keep his life? 

Louis can’t help but think of his first day at Camp Half-Blood. He tries not to think of it too often, always feeling too guilty, too lucky, too  _ safe _ in comparison to everyone else. 

He can’t help but remember as vivid images of him at the age of eleven flash across the back of his eyelids; his mother telling him that he was going to go to a special summer camp, because he would be safe there. Little Louis put up a fight, always the momma’s boy, not wanting to leave her side. He didn’t understand how a summer camp in Long Island, New York, could possibly be anymore safe than being held in his mother’s arms in their tiny little apartment in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 

Nothing happened to them on their way to the camp. Nothing happened to him once he arrived. Nothing happened to him the entire summer. When fall rolled around, he went back to Philly for school, but nothing happened to him then. When summer came, he traveled back to Camp Half-Blood, just like so many others, but nothing happened to  _ him. _

Sometimes Louis thinks it has something to do with his dad. Hermes  _ is _ the god of travel, among other things, and Louis has considered that maybe his dad is looking out for him. But the thought makes Louis chuckle. Hermes has many, many,  _ many _ sons and daughters—why would Louis Tomlinson be one of his favorites? Out of everyone, what makes Louis special enough that his dad would want to ensure his safety? 

He’s heard stories from other campers, stories from his best friends, about how they were terrorized by monsters. He’s heard stories of how campers almost lost their friends and family, how they almost lost their lives just simply trying to reach the borders of Camp Half-Blood. 

It makes Louis feel extremely lucky and extremely guilty. Why does he deserve life when so many others around him were dealt the card of death? Now, Louis  _ has _ fought his fair share of ugly and sinister monsters, but that was after he learned how to use his ADHD to his advantage and sword fight like a champion. That was after he learned how to defend himself and kill monsters. The others, they were all innocent and defenseless. They didn’t even stand a chance. 

After Louis had graduated college he decided he wanted to live at Camp Half-Blood full time. He wanted to mentor those young kids, he wanted to become someone everyone could trust, someone everyone could come to in times of trouble. Becoming Head Counselor of Cabin Eleven was a step in the right direction, and after being in a leadership position for three solid years, Louis finally thinks he’s where he’s always wanted to be.

It was a struggle though. There were never any older demigods at Camp Half-Blood. Most campers used to leave after reaching a certain age, and the others never made it to adulthood. Once Camp Jupiter was discovered, where older Roman demigods had the opportunity to spend their entire adulthoods, the Greek demigods wanted that for themselves. Louis was among some of the first demigods to talk to Chiron about staying at the camp as an adult. He wanted it and he made it happen. Now a whole generation of older demigods are finding safety and sanctuary at Camp Half-Blood. Louis figures the camp will be needing an extension in the future—they can’t all live in cabins for the rest of their lives, but that’s something to worry about in a year or two.  

Louis does miss his family, though. He misses his many little sisters. He misses his city. He misses the cheesesteaks and water ice, he misses going on Wawa runs late at night with Oli and Calvin, he misses going to Phillies games. Louis always makes sure he’s able to take the train down for holidays and birthdays, though. His sisters don’t understand why he’s gone—his mom says it’s for college because Louis is a smart, grown, twenty-one year old boy—and it’s a little bit heartbreaking. But there’s a reason he can’t tell them that he lives at a camp specifically for children with godly blood running through their veins. They wouldn’t understand that gods and goddesses are real and that outside of Camp Half-Blood’s borders, their big brother is always under constant threat of a random monster attack. 

Louis may miss all those things, but he truly loves living at Camp Half-Blood. He loves his friends who are practically his family. Louis makes sure he bonds with every single demigod that walks into Camp Half-Blood, because you never know who needs a shoulder to lean on and who might need that extra support system. 

But when you act as other people’s support systems, who acts as your own? 

Louis knows from experience that it’s hard to take your own advice. 

It’s even harder when you’re surrounded by so  _ many _ people, yet you still feel extremely lonely. 

Louis dips his head back, letting the water rushing out of the showerhead pelt against his face. It’s the best way, he’s learned, to hide the tears.

☤

Camp Half-Blood is full of life and Louis absolutely  _ loves _ it. Everyone is sticking to their schedule, the weather is beautiful, there haven’t been  _ too _ many fights breaking out among campers yet, and everyone is smiling. Seeing everyone smiling makes Louis smile. 

One of the perks of being an older camper, and a Head Counselor, is that Louis doesn’t have every second of his day from eight in the morning to ten at night meticulously planned out. Louis loves it. He prefers to go by his own schedule. He wants to do what he wants to do whenever he wants to do it. Admittedly, Louis does follow a loose schedule because of the few classes he teaches, but still, in theory, Louis doesn’t want every second of his week days planned out for him by the activities director who just so happens to be a glorified pony.

Louis still attends Ancient Greek and Greek mythology classes, but he feels like he knows it all already from his decade spent at the camp. Louis likes to say he shows up to be a good role model and put on a good example for the younger campers. Maddison likes to say that he shows up just so he can nap the whole time, and when questioned about it later, have a good alibi for where he was. 

Arena time with the younger campers is one of Louis’ favorite times during the day. For an hour each day, Louis is able to forget himself as he focuses on helping the young and new kids learn basic sword fighting skills. He teaches side by side older Ares campers who are in charge of lessons. Louis is the only exception: being the best sword fighter gives him the right to teach and grants him plenty of respect from the hotheaded sons and daughters of the god of war. 

A lot of the kids he works with remind Louis of his siblings, so he tries extra hard to be sweet and considerate. He teaches and guides their shaky hands through the movements until they’re ready to go face to face with a straw dummy. It’s tiring and on some days too much for him to handle, but it’s extremely rewarding and Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s certainly better than Ancient Greek at nine, cleaning the stables at ten-thirty, followed by javelin throwing at eleven. 

A long day of hard work is all worth it once the sun sets and dinner is over. A steady glow emits from the center of the circle the cabins create, a bonfire roaring in the middle of the giant field. Campers crowd around the heat as the chilly summer night starts to move in. Reunited friends are cuddling together on top of blankets on the grass, others sitting side by side on meticulously placed benches. There’s a hum in the air as conversations float around the group of campers to the sounds of the fire crackling. 

Louis finds his way to where he and his friends have sat everyday since Niall joined their rag-tag group six years ago. Louis used to never come to the campfire singalongs, and if he did, he would hide in the shadows in the back, lying down against the itchy grass, staring at the stars rather than participating. But that all changed when Louis met Niall Horan.

The boy is brighter than life itself, with his sunny smile, bright blue eyes, and magically bleach-blonde dyed hair. He is one of the most talented musicians to come through the borders of Camp Half-Blood in quite some time; it all made sense that he was claimed as a son of Apollo.

Once Niall found out there were nightly campfire singalongs, he deemed himself the leader and made sure his new group of friends sat front row to watch him blow everyone away with his musical genius. Louis hated it, but now it’s one of his favorite parts of his nightly routine. 

“Took you long enough Lou,” Liam mumbles when Louis finally joins them on the ground. He settles down onto the quilt Niall’s grandma made him for his birthday a few years back. It’s their designated campfire singalong butt cushion. 

Louis decidedly ignores Liam and turns to Niall who is sitting directly behind them on one of the benches. They’re close enough that if Louis wanted to, he could rest his back against Niall’s shins. “What song are we starting with tonight, Ni?” Louis asks in place of a greeting. 

Niall winks at Louis and turns to the rest of the camp, clearing his throat. Conversations instantly halt, everyone quiet, waiting to hear what song Niall will start the night off with. 

Niall makes himself comfortable on the bench, wiggling his butt back and forth on the wood and shifting his acoustic guitar on his lap until it fits snuggly under his arm. He lets the silence hang in the night air for an uncomfortable amount of time before smirking and announcing, “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

Half the camp cheers, the other half groans. Louis can’t help but cackle.

The summer is off to a  _ great _ start. 

Everyone sings along, the campers that groaned, the campers that cheered, and even the Ares campers who like to pretend they’re too cool for this kind of thing. 

The atmosphere is warm and it feels like home. Instead of singing along, Louis decides to lie back on the quilt and stare at the stars. He lets everyone’s voices wash over him, the musically-inclined and the not so musically-inclined mixing together to create the sound of…something vaguely good enough to listen to. He can hear crickets chirping and the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. He can smell the scent of ripe strawberries being carried on the breeze. He can not only see the stars twinkling above in the night sky, but he can also see his best friends, his half-siblings, and the rest of Camp Half-Blood enjoying themselves and having fun.

This is officially the start of summer and Louis couldn’t be any happier than he is right now.

☤

Louis loves Camp Half-Blood. He especially loves the magical camp borders that not only protect everyone from monsters, but also keep out mortals. He loves that because of the magical barrier, precipitation and other unfavorable weather does not fall on the camp unless desired by Mr. D, the camp director. 

Louis knows Dionysus can come across as a bitter old man most of the time, but when Louis sees rain on the horizon, just outside of the border rather than inside the camp, he knows that Mr. D does have  _ some _ kindness in his heart. Louis doesn’t blame Mr. D for his grouchiness though—if Louis was made a camp director by his dad as punishment, he would be pretty bitter too. 

Louis keeps his eyes on the beautiful blue sky overhead as he floats on his back. The cold, refreshing water of the lake keeping him cool after a grueling archery practice with Krissie. The daughter of Apollo and Head Counselor of Cabin Seven is the best archer at the camp and she does not go easy on Louis when they train together. She knows exactly how far to push him. Louis both loves and loathes her for it. 

Louis could stay in this lake all day. With his ears underwater he doesn’t hear the little kids screaming in the distance, he doesn’t hear the explosions coming from the climbing wall. He sees a group of campers riding pegasi in the sky above him, but fortunately he doesn’t hear their cheers and gasps of excitement. But there is  _ one _ thing Louis can hear coming his way and he would rather drown himself than talk to the person—creature—that the clip-clopping hoof sounds belong to.   

“Mr. Tomlinson.” From underwater, it sounds garbled and almost unrecognizable, so Louis pretends it is. He closes his eyes and stills his body. Maybe if he doesn’t move, Chiron won’t be able to see him. That’s how it works, right?

“Mr. Tomlinson, I know you heard me,” Chiron sighs. 

Louis slowly opens up one eye and then the other and tilts his head back to see Camp Half-Blood’s activities director standing on the shore staring impatiently at Louis. So much for a relaxing afternoon. 

“Hello there Pony Boy, how may I help you this fine evening?” Louis aks, voice high and chipper, a fake smile plastered to his face. 

The centaur’s tail twitches in annoyance, absolutely hating whenever Louis has to guts to call him  _ pony. _ “Towel off and meet me at the Big House in five minutes,” Chiron demands before turning and clomping his way back to the main administrative building. 

Although Louis gives Chiron a lot of shit, he’s grateful for the half-man, half-horse. He’s trained many heroes throughout history and his immortal life, many half-blood campers included, Louis being one of them. Chiron had taken an interest in Louis since he arrived at the camp at the ripe age of ten, acting like the father Louis never had. He’s intelligent, civilized, and kind, and cares deeply about each and everyone of his pupils. Chiron would even go out of his way, put himself in danger, to make sure every single demigod is safe.

Chiron has put a lot of faith in Louis over the last decade and Louis has tried, what feels like, his whole life to live up to those expectations. Even if Louis can’t succeed in making Chiron proud, he believes it’s his job to try his hardest to put a smile on Chiron’s face everyday. Well… make him smile or annoy him endlessly. 

Louis usually chooses to annoy him. 

But sometimes,  _ sometimes, _ he decides it’s a good day to go out of his way to make Chiron smile. That day doesn’t come very often though. 

Once Louis is dried enough, he makes a quick pitstop at Cabin Eleven for a change of clothes. In his haste he chooses a not-so-clean pair of jean cut-off shorts and a fresh orange shirt with the camp’s logo on it. He attempts to slip on his black vans without socks on while trying to hop out the front door. 

Five minutes have already passed, but Louis doesn’t care as he leisurely makes his way across the camp to the Big House. In the distance, the large four story administrative building shines in the glow of the afternoon sun. The baby-blue exterior has never faded and the white trim gives the building the charm it deserves. The bronze eagle weather vane that tops off the structure lazily spins in the breeze while the wind chimes hanging from the roof over the deck sway and twinkle. 

The deck that wraps around the perimeter of the Big House reminds Louis of a vacation house, many lawn chairs and tables decorating the surface. Louis notices Chiron’s and Mr. D’s table has cards on it, their favorite game of Pinochle paused in the middle. Whatever Chiron needs Louis for must be of high importance—he never pauses a game in the middle of play. Louis notes that Mr. D is nowhere to be found either. 

Louis leans against the railing of the deck, waiting for the centaur to appear.  He considers taking a seat on one of the lawn chairs, but before he can move to do so Chiron opens the door, sticking his head outside to speak with Louis.

“Ah, you’re finally here,” Chiron comments. “I’ll go fetch him, then.”

_ Him? _

Chiron is gone yet again and Louis is left wondering what he meant by “him”. Louis sighs and turns his back on the door, too impatient to wait for an explanation. 

Instead, Louis lets his eyes scan the horizon. The afternoon is slowly, slowly setting and the camp looks ablaze from where he’s standing on the deck, his body weight being supported by the railing. The view of Camp Half-Blood from the deck of the Big House is always an excellent one, no matter the time of day or the season. Louis wishes he could live and sleep all the way up here, rather than in his own cabin. He wishes he could wake up every morning and come out onto the deck and see the wonderful view that this vantage point offers: the shimmering blue water of Long Island Sound and the luscious green color of Camp Half-Blood’s immense forest. 

Louis flinches as Chiron clears his throat and calls out Louis’ name. Louis turns around to see what the centaur wants, but his voice gets stuck in his throat. 

Standing next to Chiron is a boy.

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. Louis’ stomach twinges a bit, the thought that he’s seen these eyes before crossing his mind, but it’s gone just as fast as it came, so Louis promptly ignores it. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated, and he’s tall—probably taller than Louis. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp. Louis has seen the view Harry’s experiencing for the first time many times over the past ten years, in fact he was just looking at it, but he would much rather stare in awe at Harry’s beauty. 

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.” 

Harry rips his wide opens eyes off of the horizon and turns to Chiron. “Uh, thanks,” he mumbles. 

Louis finally stops staring at the new kid and makes eye contact with Chiron. He tries asking  _ What the hell do you want me to do? _ with his eyes, but he doesn’t think Chiron picks up on the message. 

“Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson. He’s a son of Hermes and Head Counselor of Cabin Eleven, where you’ll be staying until you are claimed.” Chiron gestures to Louis with a tight-lipped smile.

Louis thought the start to summer had been too good to be true. Louis silently curses the gods, they just  _ had _ to throw in an unclaimed cute boy who may or may not be Louis’ half-sibling. Great.

Harry’s eyes flicker to Louis. Harry probably didn’t even notice him at first, only realizing his presence now after Chiron introduced him. Their eyes finally meet and Louis’ blood runs cold. There’s an immediate shift in the atmosphere and Louis can tell Harry notices it too by the way his body goes stiff the same moment Louis’ does. 

“Blue eyes…” Harry almost unintelligibly mumbles under his breath, but Louis catches what he says. He doesn’t understand what it means, but he’s sure he did hear Harry say something that eerily sounded like  _ blue eyes. _

“What was that, kid?” Louis asks, trying to get Harry to repeat himself, but the newbie doesn’t utter another peep. He only presses his pretty pink lips together tightly as a faint blush takes over the apples of his cheeks, his eyes avoiding Louis’. 

“If you would be so kind, Louis,” Chiron clears his throat, “would you please take Mr. Styles on a tour.”

Louis wants to die of embarrassment, totally forgetting that Chiron stood to the side until now. He most definitely witnessed that entire exchange and he most definitely is noticing the blush that Louis feels growing over his cheeks. 

Louis tries his best to regain his composure, smiling his brightest smile. “Sure thing, Pony Boy. Come along, Harold, we have a lot to see.”

Louis walks off without any other words, exiting the Big House’s deck onto the plush green grass. Louis knows Harry is following him anyway if his heavy footsteps are anything to go by. 

He also knows Harry is following him because not even a minute later, Louis hears “My name’s not Harold,” muttered under his breath. 

Louis smirks to himself, his back to Harry. This might not turn out as bad as he thought. 

☤

“So, here are all of the cabins. Originally there were twelve, for all the major gods, but steadily we’ve been adding cabins for the minor gods so everyone has room to spread out and be where they belong.” Louis explains as they walk along the perimeter of the cabins. It’s their last stop along the tour before they head to the Dining Pavilion for dinner. Louis makes a mental note to at least walk by the lake so Harry can see that on their way.

Harry’s been quiet the whole time. Louis knows he’s a chatterbox—he can talk for an eternity without anyone interrupting him, but every time he attempted to start a conversation with the new kid, Harry would mumble one word answers and keep his eyes firmly on the ground in front of him. Harry had asked a few questions, ones like “Why does the climbing wall have lava spewing from it?” and he even spoke to Dillon, Head Counselor of Cabin Four, in the stables for ten minutes, asking question after question about the pegasi and how to care for them. During that time Louis secretly wished Harry would look at him with the same wide-eyed curiosity he looked at Dillon and her pegasus with. 

“Which one will I be staying in?” Harry asks, biting his lower lip. 

Louis was starting to lead them out of the field and toward the lake, but he takes a curious peek at Harry’s face and finds him looking very overwhelmed. Louis instantly feels bad for the kid and changes their course. The lake can wait for now. Instead, Louis redirects Harry over to one of the stone benches that’s placed around a statue dedicated to Hermes, guiding him with a gentle hand on his lower back.

They sit on the bench in silence while Louis organizes his thoughts. 

“That cabin over there,” Louis nods to their left. “It’s the Hermes Cabin. Everyone who doesn’t have a cabin lives there. In the past, before we added all of the extra cabins for the minor gods, they would live there as well as the unclaimed demigods.” Louis chuckles. “It was really, really crowded. Packed. Probably over capacity. But recently numbers have been dwindling; immortal parents are being more responsible in claiming and minor gods now have cabins. The Hermes Cabin has this special acceptance policy that allows any undetermined demigod to stay inside. Hermes is the god of travelers, so it's doors are welcome to anyone passing by or staying for an extended period of time.”

“So am I… unclaimed?”

Louis nods. “You are until your immortal parent says otherwise.”

“What if I never get claimed?” Louis can hear the sadness and uncertainty in Harry’s voice and it hurts a little bit. It hurts Louis more than it should. 

“Don’t worry, Harold. You’ll get claimed. Everyone does. It’s law, or something. I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s frowned upon to not claim your child anymore. So you’ll definitely be finding out soon.”

Harry stops replying to Louis’ comments and questions after that. He looks like he has a million questions of his own running around in his head, but he doesn’t say anything. Louis can  _ see _ him thinking, he can see the gears turning, but he just lets him be.

Louis has Harry stand up and they exit the cabin area, slowly making their way towards the lake. Louis hopes Harry appreciates it. He’s caught the new kid looking at the beautiful landscape and foliage all throughout their tour and Louis has a hunch that he’ll enjoy the beauty of the lake. 

Activities for the day are done for now as everyone prepares for dinner. Some campers are milling around the lake themselves, chatting and laughing with friends. Louis recognizes everyone they walk by and shoots them a friendly smile in place a greeting, not really keen on starting conversation with acquaintances while he’s still trying to show Harry around. 

Louis considers this move a victory when he notices Harry’s mouth slightly agape as he slowly makes his way around the perimeter of the lake. Louis hangs back a bit and lets Harry take in the beauty. Louis doesn’t blame Harry for staring; at this time in the afternoon, the serene lake reflects the sunset perfectly. After a full day's worth of activities taking place on and in the lake, it’s quite shocking to see it so absolutely still, the only signs of life coming from the permanent inhabitants underwater. 

They take their time slowly walking around. Harry taking in his surroundings, carefully examining everything his eyes catch. Louis curiously watches Harry, the way he walks, the way his curls blow in the breeze. He notices his tiny ticks and he catches when Harry stumbles over a rock. He also catches Harry looking over his shoulder to see if anyone noticed his stumble. Louis was the only one and once Harry realized this he couldn’t hide the pink tint of his cheeks quick enough.

Louis continues to let Harry explore, but out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees his half-brother Alexander waving his hands in the air, frantically trying to grab his attention. 

“Uh,” Louis stammers, looking back and forth between Harry's back and his brother. “Go on ahead Harry, I need to talk to someone real quick.”

Harry only quickly glances over his shoulder at Louis, silent as ever, before shrugging and continuing his walk around the perimeter of the lake, hands stuffed into his pockets. 

Louis jogs towards Alexander, meeting his brother halfway. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes and Louis’ gut twists, from excitement or apprehension, he can’t tell. “What’s up?” he asks, trying to gauge what is running through Alexander’s head. 

A large grin takes over his face. “So when are we gonna do it?”

Louis’ gut decides it’s definitely  _ not  _ excitement. “When are we gonna do what?”

“Throw the new kid into the lake.”

And. Louis forgot all about that. It's a camp tradition (well, mostly—well, only a Hermes tradition) to toss the newbies into the lake. There is not one camper that hasn't been thrown in the lake and it’s all thanks to Louis and his half-brothers and -sisters. 

Louis looks back at Harry. He bites his bottom lip, trying to think of a way to save the new kid from the trauma of crawling out of the freezing cold lake looking like a drowned rat in front of the entire Hermes Cabin who would, no doubt, all be present to witness it. There’s something about Harry that Louis just wants to instinctively protect and he’s starting think he’ll do anything to keep Harry from experiencing any more pain this week.

“Listen,” Louis sighs, “let me take care of this, okay? The kid already looks poorly and I don't wanna make it any worse.” Alexander narrows his eyes at Louis, making him to panic for a second—Louis’ meticulously planned excuse for why they shouldn’t toss Harry instantly going out the window. He flounders for his words and eventually manages to spit out something understandable. “I’ll plan the whole thing. We’ll do it in a few weeks or so. Soon. I promise. Everyone will be in on it, it’ll be fantastic.”

Alexander smirks. “Nice.” He goes to walk away, but stops himself. “Oh and Lou, I know he’s cute and all, but his face is up here—” Alexander gestures to his head, “—not down here.” He punctuates his snide remark with a light slap to his own ass before cackling and scurrying away from his half-brother. 

If Louis could see his face right now, he knows it would be beet red. 

He takes a few minutes to compose himself before rejoining Harry to finish their tour and make their way over to the Dining Pavilion. Besides, Louis  _ does not  _ find Harry attractive, Alexander was just making things up, mocking and making fun of Louis. Louis  _ can’t  _ find Harry attractive because there’s still a possibility of him being his half-brother. It’s a very slim chance, but it still exists and Louis does not wanna mess with that kind of probability.  

☤

“Well, Harold,” Louis announces, “this is the glamorous and fabulous Dining Pavilion!” 

Standing tall and regal in front of the pair is the mess hall where all demigods, satyrs, and camp staff have their meals. The structure is beautiful and looks like it came straight out of a picture book of Greek history. There are Greek Doric order columns made of white marble supporting the structure. The heavy columns are short and faceted, and are the most plain type of Greek column. The entire pavilion is free of walls and a roof, and from where it sits on the top of the hill, there’s a magnificent and breath-taking view of the sea. 

Torches give the Dining Pavilion a warm glow from where they sit mounted on each column. The fire in the center of the mess hall burns bright and intense from inside a giant bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. 

As Louis leads Harry through the pavilion, they pass many empty tables, each covered with a white tablecloth decorated with purple trim. Louis notes that it’s still a bit early for people to start showing up, which might explain why most tables are empty rather than full of raucous teenagers. 

“Each god has their own table where their children sit,” Louis explains as they circle around the hall. “Children of Hermes sit at the Hermes table, children of Demeter sit at the Demeter table, and so on.”

Louis pastes on a smile and nods at one of the wood nymphs that quickly passes them. Once she’s gone, however, Louis’ face drops into a scowl. 

“I think it’s a big load of bullshit.”

A sudden, very loud and obnoxious, laugh erupts out of Harry. He looks a bit startled as his hand flies to his face to cover his mouth. His cheeks are bright pink. If this is how Harry reacts when he laughs, Louis never wants to stop cracking jokes.

“I’m serious, though,” Louis chuckles. “I want to be able to sit next to my friends, ya know? Talk to the people I don’t get to spend a lot of time with. I already sleep with and live in the same cabin as my half-siblings, I don’t need to see them at meal time too.”

Harry nods along to Louis’ musings, but doesn’t add any of his own commentary. 

“So, Harold, I break the rules— Don’t look at me like that! I’m a grown man, I am fully capable of choosing where to plant my ass when I want to shove food in my face.”

“Where do you sit then?”

Louis shrugs, “There are a few empty tables. I sit there with most of the other Head Counselors because we’re all older. Zayn and Niall are the only ones who aren’t Head Counselors but we let them sit with us anyway,” Louis winks. “Chiron doesn’t like it, but he lets it slide. He knows there’s no chance in putting up a fight against me. I may annoy the pony to no end, but he loves me.”

After explaining what kind of food they usually have (barbeque, lots of different fruits, cheese, and fresh bread) and how the never-empty goblets they drink out of work (“They’re  _ enchanted, _ Harry. It’s all voice command, say what you want and it’s there. Sadly, no alcohol, though.”), Louis finally leads them to a table as a rush of campers start appearing. 

Louis really wishes Harry would start talking to him. He literally knows nothing about the kid except his first and last name—and if Chiron hadn’t told him it was Styles, Louis doesn’t think Harry would’ve ever said anything himself. It’s a bit annoying to say the least and it’s starting to grind against Louis’ nerves, but he calms himself. Maybe Harry’s just really shy, maybe he’ll open up more when the others start arriving. Niall is always good at breaking the ice, starting conversation, and getting people to laugh. Maybe Niall will get Harry to open up more.

But maybe Louis wants to be the one to get Harry to open up. 

That’s beside the point, though. 

“Louis,” Liam whines as he unceremoniously sits himself on the bench next to Louis, not even realizing Louis isn’t alone. “You know I hate that you make us break the rules. Chiron always gives me the stink eye when I walk away from my table and towards you. I feel so bad.”

Louis cackles. “Lighten up, Payno! Do we seriously have to go through this every single meal?”

“Go through what?” Zayn asks, coming up behind them, planting a kiss to Liam’s cheek. Everyone at the table groans in protest over their public display of affection as Zayn takes a seat.

“How Liam’s such a big baby.”

Krissie swings her legs over the bench across from Louis and drops down with a snort. “You can say that again.”

The Dining Pavilion turns into chaos as more and more campers come wandering in from all sides and taking their seats. The wood nymphs try their best to keep up, serving food and goblets to each camper as quickly and efficiently as possible. Soon enough everyone is digging into their food and their table fills up with friends. 

“Who are you?” Niall blatantly directs his question towards Harry with no hesitation. He’s the first one of the group to notice something is different and Louis tries to hold in his laughs as a look of horror washes over Harry’s face.

“Uh, uh,” Harry stammers.

“Who is who?” Liam asks, whipping his head left and right. When he finally spots Harry, he can’t help but let his jaw drop open in shock. “So  _ you’re _ the new kid everybody is talking about? Lou! Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Louis slurs his words, taking a bite of the fresh strawberry he just stole off of Krissie’s plate across from him. “Wanted to see how long it would take for you dimwits to notice.”

Maddison rolls her eyes and sticks her hand out to Harry. “I’m Maddison James, daughter of Athena, Head Counselor of Cabin Six. It’s nice to meet you…”

Harry reaches out to shake her hand. “Harry. ‘M Harry Styles,” he says quietly.  

Krissie smiles brightly. “It’s great to meet you, Harry! I’m Krissie Gonzalez, daughter of Apollo, Head Counselor of Cabin Seven. Welcome to the camp. Is Louis being nice? He can be quite grumpy, that one.”

“Hey—”

“She’s right ya know,” Niall adds, mouth full of barbeque ribs. 

Louis narrows his eyes. “I resent that.” 

“Ignore them,” Krissie rolls her eyes. “So have you seen the whole camp? Do you know where you’re staying yet? Are you claimed? Oh! Where are you from? Did you travel a long distance to get here? You must be exhausted—”

“Babe, slow down,” Maddison laughs, her hand landing on her girlfriend’s thigh to slow her down. 

“It’s okay,” Harry clears his throat. As he talks, his voice is still quiet, and everyone slightly shifts forward to hear him. “Um, Louis has been really nice and he took me everywhere and showed me everything. Um, I’m pretty sure I’m staying in the Hermes,” he quickly looks to his left, at Louis, who slightly nods, “cabin and I’m unclaimed.”

Harry then slowly, but surely tells everyone about where he comes from. His slow talking and stuttering is a sure sign of nervousness, but Louis finds it endearing. He could probably listen to Harry talk all day. 

Harry describes the vineyard he grew up on in Napa Valley, California. He tells stories about running through the fields with his dad chasing him, his desire to always want to be surrounded by nature, his deep-seated interest in the environment and winemaking. He goes quiet as he talks about the more fond memories linked to his house and family: cooking in the kitchen with his grandmother, learning how to knit with his stepmother, doing yoga on the deck as the California sun rose over the horizon, caring for his new baby sister, who he had to leave behind in Napa Valley.

Louis’ heart breaks piece by piece as Harry talks. Louis can hear the sadness, the loneliness, the despair, in Harry’s voice. He knows it’s there because he felt the same exact way when he was eleven years old and leaving home for the first time. It must be so much more intense for Harry, a nineteen year old who was only beginning to cement his life and his roots only to have them torn out so fast and suddenly. 

Louis can sense Harry’s distress and wants him to stop talking immediately. He can see the pain Harry’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to see the boy any more homesick than he already is. 

Harry takes a break from his storytelling to take a deep, shaky breath and Louis takes the opportunity. 

“Enough about you, Harold. We have all summer to learn about you,” Louis winks. “You have to catch up with the rest of us, though. I’ll start. I’m Louis, son of Hermes, Head Counselor of Cabin Eleven, but you already know all that. Was pointless for me to repeat it, I guess. I’ve been here ten years now, since I was eleven. Everyone  _ loves _ me—”

“We don’t understand how everyone still loves him, though! He has that sarcastic, asshole smile and a gleam in his eyes that’s basically shouting that he’s gonna drop a firecracker down your shirt at any moment,” Niall adds in, holding his stomach tight as he laughs through his interruption.

Louis smirks devilishly, but does nothing else to acknowledge Niall’s side comment before he continues. “I’m one the best sword fighters this dump has. My favorite food is pizza—oh gods, especially if it’s  _ greasy— _ that shit is delicious. I’m from Philadelphia, so I take the train down occasionally to visit my four younger siblings.” 

“This boulder over here,” Louis points his thumb to his left, “is Liam Payne of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, son of Hephaestus, Head Counselor of Cabin Nine.” Louis drops his voice low, and pretends to whisper to Harry. “He may  _ look _ physically imposing, but he’s honestly just a giant puppy. He has all these stupid, big muscles, his hands are calloused as fuck, and he looks like he can make most monsters cry for their mommies, but it’s all just a facade.”

_ “Louis!” _

“He also whines like a baby.”

Harry smiles slightly at this and Louis deems it a success. Two introductions down, four more to go. Louis really hopes this will make Harry feel more comfortable and welcome at Camp Half-Blood. Harry might find a completely  _ different _ friend group in the next few weeks, but Louis still wants to be the reason why Harry had felt so safe and welcome on the first day, if possible. 

“That sunny motherfucker with the bleach blonde hair is Niall Horan. He’s a son of Apollo. He does all the guitar playing and singing at the nightly bonfires, and he loves telling people he’s from Texas—”

“Dallas, Texas, baby! Hot damn!” 

“—and it’s literally the worst thing ever. I don’t know why we keep him around, to be honest. He’s lucky he’s pretty good at archery and healing, or else he wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Niall and Louis playfully stick their tongues out at each other, hating that they love each other so much. Louis loves Niall like one of his own siblings, though, and that will never change.

“The broody, beautiful man that is Liam’s boyfriend is Zayn Malik, son of Aphrodite. His hair color is pink today, but tomorrow it’ll probably be like, oh, I don’t know, orange. He gets bored a lot and since his mom is Aphrodite, he’s able to alter his appearance whenever he wants.”

“Those two,” he waves his hand towards Maddison and Krissie, “love talking about themselves, so there’s not much else to say. They’re both madly in love, both stubborn, and pretentious. Anyway, that’s everyone, Harold. You’re gonna love it here, I promise.”

Louis smiles brightly at Harry, so much so that the skin by the corner of his eyes crinkle. Louis is genuinely excited to have Harry joining the camp. There’s a deep feeling in his gut, so deep Louis can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but he knows it’s there. He hopes it’s a good feeling, so he’s going to pretend it is. 

Harry’s lips turn up into a small, closed-mouth smile. It’s just enough for Louis’ stomach to do a somersault. 

☤

“So you can sleep over there. The sheets are fresh and the bed and surrounding space is yours until you’re claimed.” Harry simply nods as Louis welcomes him into the Hermes Cabin, the place that has become just as much a home to him as Philadelphia is. Louis bites his lip as he watches Harry survey the cabin with downcast eyes. Louis knows it’s nothing special; he knows it’s not as pretty or fancy or well-organized as other cabins are. His half-siblings leave their shit everywhere, Louis included, and there are so many random trinkets and knick-knacks lying on every available surface it looks like a tornado had came through. 

The little trinkets and knick-knacks are Louis’ favorite part of Cabin Eleven though. As a child of Hermes, Louis and his half-siblings are fun-loving, mischievous pranksters—it runs in their blood. Everyone is clever and cunning, but only a few are as playful as Louis is. Louis’ life revolves around play pranks and making people smile and laugh about it. He never intends to hurt anyone and he hasn’t—yet.

But with the pranking comes the skill of pickpocketing, resulting in the large assortment of random items filling the cabin. Each tiny object has a backstory tied to it and the Hermes campers pride themselves on retelling the stories at every possible opportunity. The only drawback to all this pickpocketing is the clutter, but none of them mind except for Harry. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Louis mumbles, not really sorry at all. Harry shrugs and sits on his bed, facing Louis who is sitting on his own. 

The rest of the room is quite empty, the other Hermes kids still out enjoying the bonfire and singalong. Louis offered to bring him back early—he could tell the new kid was tired, so he wanted to get Harry settled in before the poor boy passed out from exhaustion.

They sit in silence, Louis staring at Harry the whole time, Harry avoiding any and all eye contact. 

“You’re very quiet, Harold. Are you okay?”

Harry shrugs. A quiet “yeah” escaping his soft, pink lips along with the motion. 

“You know you can talk to me, right? I just want you to feel welcome. It can be quite a shock the first week or so. I just don’t want to cross over any lines either. I know I talk a lot,” which is exactly what he’s doing right now, Louis notices, starting to panic, “and I know it’s  _ really  _ annoying and I don’t wanna be annoying, Harry. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed, Louis.”

Louis slightly bristles at Harry’s harsh tone, but brushes it off because there’s one last thing he wants to do to welcome Harry to Camp Half-Blood. Louis makes his way over to Harry, who is slowly taking off his sneakers, with a worn orange shirt clutched in his hands. 

“Here Harry,” Louis offers. “This is for you.”

Harry eyes the orange fabric and hesitantly takes it out of Louis’ hand. He unfolds it, revealing a plain orange shirt with Camp Half-Blood written across the chest and a tiny pegasus right in the middle underneath it. 

“It’s one of my shirts,” Louis bites his lips, suddenly nervous. “It’s, um, it’s a bit of a tradition for the older demigod that tours around the new demigod to give them their first camp shirt. I’ve had that for quite some time, and you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but it’s a symbolic gesture thing we do. You can get a brand new fresh one tomorrow from Chiron, but your first one will always be one from the first demigod you meet.” 

“Oh,” Harry breathes out. “Uh. Thank you.” Harry’s eyes are still glued to the shirt in his hands and Louis can see his thumbs making small, circular motions, gently touching the very soft, well-loved and worn fabric. 

“I still have my first shirt. Jackson, son of Hecate and the Head Counselor at the time, was the first demigod I met. He showed me around the camp and gave me one of his shirts.” Louis chuckles to himself. “He, his twin sister Lauren, and I were all very good friends. Our mischievous and trouble-making tendencies were a good base for our friendship. They were older than me though, so they’re long gone by now—moved to California before Chiron started to allow us older demigods to stay here full time. Sometimes when I miss them, I wear the shirt to bed.”

“That’s so nice,” Harry whispers. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

Louis is shocked by how much Harry has brushed him off this night. He turns to go back to his own bed, but not before he catches Harry quickly stripping off his shirt and jeans and throwing on Louis’ camp shirt over his bare chest. Louis settles himself under his covers as Harry does the same across the room.

“Goodnight,” Louis finally chokes out in a quiet response.

He flips around in bed so his back is to Harry. He looks out at the night sky, the window on the wall above the side of his bed giving him the perfect view of the moon riding across the black sea of stars.

Louis falls asleep wishing that Harry would have made a bond with Louis the way Louis did with Jackson and Lauren when he first came to Camp Half-Blood. It would probably make the next few months to come easier, but Louis can only hope for the best. 

☤

Louis’ nose twitches and in his sleepy haze, he runs his hand over it, trying to scratch the itch. Once his sleepy mind feels satisfied, he pulls his palm away, but another blast of something strong and floral assaults his senses. It’s strong enough to finally pull him out of his deep sleep and Louis instantly knows today isn’t going to be a great day. He’s already cranky and  _ why the fuck does this fucking cabin smell like a fucking garden in bloom? _

He rolls over, trying to untangle his limbs from his sheets, and as he does so, a bright golden light burns his eyes, the light leaking through his closed lids. Louis feels extremely disoriented; flowers, mysterious gold lights— _ if this is a prank, it’s not well thought out or executed, _ Louis thinks bitterly. 

Louis sits up, rubbing his eyes with his balled up fists before opening them and surveying the cabin’s bedroom. He has to blink his eyes a few times, too shocked by what he sees to actually believe he’s awake and not dreaming.

The cabin smells like a garden because there’s one  _ growing _ in the cabin. Actively growing. Louis stares in shock as he watches grass slowly spread over the wooden floors. His jaw hangs opens as he watches flowers bloom, one by one, petal by petal, rising seemingly out of nothing. Vines slowly inch up the walls, they wrap around bedposts and the legs of desks and chairs. Everything seems to be radiating from a central source though, and Louis whips his head frantically around the room until— _ of course. _

His eyes land on a peacefully sleeping Harry Styles, who is not only the epicenter for the sudden pop-up garden, but also the source of the bright light. Because, right there, above his curly head, is a glowing gold sickle with a few sheaths of wheat.

Shit.

Louis’ seen his fair share of claiming. He’s been at the camp for a decade, but he’s never seen a claiming like  _ this. _ Ever since the Second Olympian War, the gods promised to claim their children by the age of thirteen. It became tradition to claim them around the campfire, too. But Harry is in bed, in the Hermes Cabin, claimed at the age of nineteen. Demeter better have a good explanation for all of this. 

So Harry Styles is a son of Demeter.  Louis doesn’t feel  _ as  _ guilty that he ogled Harry’s butt now—at least he knows they’re not related through Hermes and his insatiable need for sex with mortal women. That’s a good thing.   

The garden keeps growing and Harry is still dead to the world. Louis jumps out of bed quickly, aiming to wake Harry up so he can at least clean up the green mess he’s leaving behind before he moves into his own cabin. Louis doesn’t make it that far, though. Instead, a vine wraps around his ankle the moment he plants (ha, no pun intended) his feet on the ground, causing him to trip as he attempts to take a step forward.

He crashes to the ground with the least amount of grace possible. He’s lucky the patch of grass was there to soften the impact, and the rest of his half-siblings are lucky he held in the girly screech he so desperately wanted to let free. 

Everyone is still dead asleep, it’s still too early to be awake, the sun just over the horizon. Everyone except Harry, who upon Louis’ impact with the ground, had bolted straight up in bed. His hair is matted down against his skull in some places, frizzy from the slight morning humidity in the other places. His eyes are a bright, beautiful green: alert and matching the grass Louis had face-planted into. 

Louis lifts his head and locks eyes with Harry.

“Um,” Harry eloquently puts it.

And yeah, Louis could not have said it better himself. 

☤

It’s been a week since finding out Harry is a son of Demeter, but it already feels like the new kid has been around longer than Louis. It’s frustrating. Harry is friends with everyone—they all know his name, he’s shining and exceeding in all of his classes, and he’s nice. He says good morning and good afternoon to everyone he passes by, always with the sweetest smile on his face. Harry and Zayn share a love of pegasus riding and spend every Thursday in the stables together. Harry and Niall sit together at the arts and craft table, crafting their hearts out while discussing possible songs for that night’s campfire singalong. Louis doesn’t know what Liam and Harry do, but he does know that they hang out together.

Louis feels tricked. Bamboozled. Deceived. Hoodwinked. Misled. Double-crossed. He feels tricked! And yes, he is very bitter about it. 

This Harry is nothing like the Harry he met a week ago and Louis desperately wishes he had met this Harry instead. Harry is charming, sweet, beautiful, and he walks around the camp barefoot, wearing flowers in his hair. 

Louis  _ knows _ Harry is avoiding him, he just doesn’t understand why.  Whenever Louis tries to seek out Harry, the other demigod always disappears into the crowd or around a corner. He hasn’t spoken one word to Harry since that first day, but Niall, Zayn, and Liam have all gotten close to him. 

Harry has his meals with his half-siblings, laughing along with Dillon, his cabin’s Head Counselor, and the others. Louis knows it’s a bit creepy, but he can’t help but stare while he eats, waiting for the moment Harry will finally look back at him. It never happens and Louis’ sure it never will and he hates it. Louis just wants to be  _ friends _ with him. He doesn’t understand why he’s the one demigod in this entire fucking camp that Harry Styles won’t even look at. 

☤

Louis can’t sleep. That’s why he’s out and about before anyone else is awake. It’s not because the green eyes in his dreams continue to haunt him and grow in intensity. It’s not because he feels like he’s trapped in his own cabin with no way out. It’s not because he feels like he’s drowning. And it’s  _ not _ because he feels like he’s becoming more and more lonely as the summer days pass by. 

The morning air is crisper than he expects it to be, the sun not yet fully in the sky. The ground is cold and morning dew dampens his bare feet. Camp Half-Blood is eerily quiet and it shocks Louis. He has never heard his home so silent. There’s always something happening, someone yelling or laughing, something to fill the air. But this early in the morning, there’s nothing. Nothing besides the far-off sound of waves crashing gently against the shore and birds happily singing their morning songs. 

Nothing besides… singing? Humming?

Louis looks around, searching for any type of movement around the cabins. But he finds nothing. He looks across the field from where he’s standing, surveying Dionysus’ cabin, then looks to his immediate left, his eyes scanning Hermes’ cabin neighbor Hephaestus. Everything is motionless, everyone still tucked into their beds, cherishing the sleep that can become so rare during the fun, activity-packed summer months. 

Louis is aware that it is a Saturday morning, meaning everyone is sleeping in, which makes the mysterious sing-humming even more…mysterious. 

Louis tries his best to strain his ears and follows the song that the breeze carries. He walks across the field the cabins wrap around diagonally, towards Hera and Demeter’s cabins, hoping to find the culprit. 

He walks slow, still a bit drowsy, allowing himself to soak in the empty, peaceful atmosphere before it becomes the blazing hell he knows it will turn to once everyone is awake and going about their day. The singing becomes louder and Louis finally lifts his head up, eyes shifting from the grass to scan his surroundings, but he sees nothing. The cabins are still asleep and Louis silently wishes he was too, but then the beautiful singing reaches his ears again. This time it’s sweeter and stronger. Louis doesn’t know why, but he looks up and that’s when he sees  _ him. _

Louis will always be envious of the Demeter Cabin. It’s one of the most gorgeous places to live in Camp Half-Blood, in Louis’ opinion. The walls are light shade of brown that speckle and glow in the morning light, like they themselves are full of nutrients and minerals. The front porch and the ground surrounding the cabin are absolutely littered with wild flowers and roses in the most beautiful way possible. Vines climb the walls and the windows, making the building look alive. Louis has only been inside a few times, but he knows that there is a grassy floor and an oak tree in the center of the cabin that holds up the ceiling and roof. 

And boy, is that roof spectacular. 

The roof is entirely constructed out of growing grass. It reminds Louis of the sprawling green fields he used to see on long car rides in the countryside of Pennsylvania when he was younger. It’s breathtaking and always a brilliant green. 

The eyes from Louis’ dream flash in the forefront of his mind for a second before he blinks hard to get rid of the image. He doesn’t want them haunting him in the daylight as well as the darkness. 

The roof of Cabin Four is exactly where the source of the singing is coming from, because sitting on the roof, in some weird kind of yoga pose, is Harry Styles. His eyes are shut, his face is lax, and his mouth is open slightly, allowing for the words he’s singing to be free. 

Louis can’t believe the sight. He finally has a chance to be alone with Harry, where the new kid can’t escape, disappear, or ignore Louis. It’s a chance Louis can’t refuse, he decides, as his mind scrambles for some words. 

“What are you doing up there, Harold?” Louis tries, sudden and without warning. He’s hoping to spook Harry a little bit, maybe gain some higher ground. Well, not  _ actual _ higher ground. Harry has him beat on that. 

“Trying to scare me, Lewis? I saw you the moment you stepped out of your cabin,” Harry drawls, voice slow and monotonous. Louis’ skin crawls at Harry’s words, said without even one look at Louis—his eyes close thinking for a second that Harry also knows the reason for his early rise, but there’s no possible way for that to be true, so Louis unclenches the tiniest bit. He’s still bit spooked by how Harry noticed him without even looking at him. 

Louis can hear the eye roll in Harry’s voice when he says, seemingly reading Louis’ mind, “I saw you leave your cabin, Louis. My eyes haven’t been closed the  _ whole  _ time you were out here. And besides, it’s a quiet morning and you’re a heavy breather.”

Louis scowls. “What do you want, Styles?”

Harry opens one eye and looks down at Louis. “What do  _ I _ want? You’re the one who’s standing here in  _ my _ cabin, interrupting  _ my _ morning yoga session. What do  _ you _ want?”

Louis flushes and secretly hopes Harry doesn’t catch the red coloring his cheeks. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Hmph. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes—”

Harry sighs loudly, cutting Louis off. “What do you want, Louis?” 

Louis growls angrily. “I don’t want anything, Harry!” 

“Then why are you here?”

Louis looks up at Harry, sitting on the cabin’s roof, legs knotted together in some fancy yoga position, his hands placed palm-up on his knees. His brown curls are tucked up into a messy bun, loose strands breaking free and blowing in the breeze. Blue flowers are weaved throughout his hair, making it look like a tiny garden has popped up right on the top of his head. Harry’s lips are a soft pink this morning, matching the pink in the sunrise. His eyes are a blazing green that pierce Louis’ own cloudy blue eyes. 

Harry is beautiful. 

This time, Louis’ voice is soft and vulnerable when he repeats his question. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Harry’s shoulders slump and he breathes out heavily. “I’m not… I don’t think we would be good friends. I just don’t think we would work out, Lou.”

Something unpleasant twirls around in Louis’ stomach. He knows Harry’s lying. He  _ knows. _ If Harry can be friends with Zayn, Niall, and Liam, he can most definitely be friends with Louis. It hurts Louis more than it should and it’s making him angry—unreasonably angry.  

Louis doesn’t know what’s going on with Harry, but he has to do something about it. Louis has to do something and he has to do it fast, the new kid’s beauty be damned. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry _hates_ falling asleep. He hates the feeling of falling into a perpetually dark void, with no light, no way to tell which way is up and which way is down. He hates the visions that plague his mind during the dark hours of the night. He hates the feeling of dread that floods his body whenever he dreams of those eyes.

Those scary, meaningful, hauntingly _beautiful_ blue eyes that reflect the color of the sky. They’re both Harry’s most and least favorite thing ever and it feels like he just can’t escape them. During the day, those dangerous eyes try their hardest to seek Harry out, and during the night, they’re there waiting for Harry, always.

So Harry has decided that sleep isn’t for him. No one has noticed yet. No one has picked up on his slight drowsiness and lack of energy. No one has noticed the slight under-eye bags that Harry has already noticed on himself.

Instead of sleeping, Harry writes. He brought a mostly empty journal with him to keep his mind occupied, and more often than not, he finds himself sitting alone at one of the desks in his cabin, his new home, scrawling any and every word that filters through his mind under the light of the moon. On one particularly restless night, Harry starts writing letters to his baby sister. The content is jumbled and consists mostly of Harry’s rambling, but after a few nights in a row with only two or three hours of sleep, Harry decides he wants to tell his sister about the camp.

He tells her about the beautiful view, the sparkling ocean, just like the one back home in Napa. He tells her how the strawberry fields at Camp Half-Blood remind him of their vineyards, but don’t give him the same homey comfort he’s yearning for. He tells her about his friends and about his daily activities, like his Greek lessons and training sessions. He tells her about the blue eyes he dreams of so often.

Harry fills pages and pages solely about the wild blue eyes that follow his every move. He describes them, and their owner, in great detail. He spends hours theorizing why they’re choosing _him_ of all people to haunt. Harry wants to know why he sees Louis Tomlinson’s eyes every time he closes his own.

❀

The sky above Harry is an inky blue. It’s one of his favorite shades of the night sky and he sometimes wonders to himself, since Louis’ eyes reflect the sky, what would this color look like on him?

He quickly shakes that thought out of his head. He came to the roof of the Demeter Cabin to escape those wild eyes, not to think about them even more.

Harry sits on the green roof, the softness of the grass beneath his palms calming and centering him. As he sits, legs crossed in the center, Harry lets his mind wander. He doesn’t know where it goes, but it feels nice to finally be free of the heavy thoughts weighing down on his shoulders. He lets himself concentrate on the earth and the nature around him, trying his hardest to call to his mother for strength—strength of the soul, strength of the mind, strength of the body.

After a long time, Harry decides to rise with the sun and go through some of his favorite yoga poses. He keeps his mind blank as his palms sink into the soft dirt the grassy roof is rooted in.  Yoga was Harry’s favorite part of his morning routine back home in Napa and he’s glad he can continue the exercise here at camp.

“Do you see that, boys?” a harsh voice from below whispers, just loud enough so Harry could hear. Slightly shaky arms are the only response the heckler pulls out of him.

Another boy snorts. “He’s just trying to show off—”

“Yeah, the little Cali baby trying to act like he’s better than the rest of us.”

Harry breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth—in and out—and tries to not let the words get to him. No matter how hard the Ares boys try, they will never get a rise out of Harry. Not now, not ever.

Harry wants to be his full authentic self and a few sons of Ares with sticks up their asses won’t stop him from doing so.

After a few more less friendly words from the boys below, they disappear, probably off to complete the first task on their schedule for the day. Which, Harry should be doing too, but the morning sunlight warming his skin, the slight breeze filtering through his long, loose curls, and the soft grass between his bare toes encourage him to be disobedient just this once. Hopefully Chiron will understand—it _is_ a completely valid reason for skipping the first ten minutes of today’s mythology lesson.

❀

Harry’s fucked up. He promised himself he’d be ten minutes late at most, but here he is, walking towards Chiron and his class almost twenty minutes late. Harry sheepishly slides into an empty seat at the back of the class, embarrassed by his tardiness.

“Mr. Styles, it’s nice to see that you finally decided to show up,” Chiron says, eyeing Harry unimpressively. His eyes stop at Harry’s feet, making the demigod blush. It’s not his fault he forgot to check the time and when he finally did, he forgot to put shoes on in his haste.

Chiron continues the lesson without another comment, talking about whatever—Harry still too embarrassed to listen. He’s the new kid and he doesn’t want a bad reputation this early on.

Harry hears a snort come from somewhere on his right side. He whips his head around to find its source and that’s when he sees Louis Tomlinson staring straight at him, giving Harry a dirty look. Harry didn’t even know Louis was in the same group as him.

Harry feels his cheeks heat up instantly and he pulls his gaze away from Louis to stare at his own lap instead. But before that, Harry couldn’t help but notice that Louis’ eyes are a crystal clear blue, just like the sky above them.

Louis doesn’t remove his piercing gaze for the entirety of the lesson and Harry’s skin stings for the rest of the day.

Harry doesn’t see Louis after that, but his crystal clear blue eyes do return to haunt him once his head hits the pillow.

❀

“I like your flowers today.”

Harry blushes, his cheeks matching the dusty pink of the Juliet Garden Roses intertwined in his curls. “Thank you Niall, I grew them myself.”

“Yee-haw! I’m so proud of ya, Haz!” Niall practically yells, a giant smile overtaking his face. Some nearby campers turn to give Niall dirty looks while others totally ignore him, used to his loudness. Harry still blushes over the attention, a bit shaken by his friend’s enthusiasm. “So what’s in it?”

Harry meets Niall’s eyes and furrows his eyebrows, silently questioning what he meant. Harry’s hands are busy working on the basket he’s weaving in front of him while Niall has totally forgone arts and crafts today, saying he can make this kind of stuff in his sleep. Harry likes being crafty though, it gives his hands and mind something to do rather than thinking about those damn blue eyes all the time.

“What’s in the flower crown?” Niall asks waving his hands nonchalantly to accompany his words. “I know you’ve been practicing and practicing, trying to grow everything all on your own.”

Harry gives Niall a small smile, appreciative of him remembering the one thing Harry has been trying to hone his skills on.

At Camp Half-Blood you can be many things. You are a demigod, first and foremost, but you could also be a master swordsman or an archer. You could be a strategist, scholar, or an inventor. You can be many things at Camp Half-Blood, but Harry is none of those things. He’s a demigod and that’s it. He can’t pick up a sword without falling over and his aim with a bow is even worse. Harry can’t think on his feet when he’s learning how to forge weapons with Liam, let alone try to think that fast in battle. He’s not well versed in mythology yet and he’s nowhere near close.

The one thing Harry is, is a demigod. He can at least hold on to that. He can hold onto his skills and talents that his mother Demeter has given him. He’s going to hold on to them tight.

“Yeah, Ni, I’ve been practicing my Chlorokinesis. Dillon’s been helping me, but this morning during yoga I think I finally got it.” Harry lightly touches the plants nestled in his hair and smiles to himself, remembering the pure joy he felt upon seeing the flowers he grew on his own for the first time. “They’re Juliet Garden Roses, Berzillia, Jasmine, Ranunculus, and Rice Flower.”

“They’re gorgeous, Harry.”

A movement out of the corner of his eye makes Harry flinch, his head turning towards it.

Louis Tomlinson is walking past the arts and crafts pavilion. He’s walking with Zayn, their heads bowed together in conversation, but Harry knows that Louis is doing this on purpose. Harry pretends not to notice when Louis’ blue eyes turn towards him, taking notice of his flower crown. Harry pretends not to love the way Louis’ eyes lighten up when they find his own.

“Thank you, Niall,” Harry finally mumbles. He coughs, ignoring Niall’s knowing look.

❀

Despite the sons of Ares and their rude comments towards Harry every morning, Harry sticks to his yoga routine. And Harry honestly thinks it’s working—the yoga, not the derogatory insults. Harry has slept through the night for the third time this week and it’s honestly been such a blessing. He has felt recharged and relaxed. His increased rest hasn’t had any effect on his skills in the arena yet, but in due time he _might_ be able to _try_ to defend himself with a sword. He just needs practice. But it has helped Harry focus more, allowing him better control over his Chlorokinesis.

He just needs to learn how to control his control now.

“Um, Harry,” Zayn coughs.

Caught off guard by Zayn’s voice, Harry turns around to face his friend, momentarily forgetting about Antheia.

“Yeah?” Harry addresses Zayn, his heart thumping just a hint faster. Zayn’s standing at the doorway to the stables, looking effortless in a ratty old orange Camp Half-Blood shirt and black skinny jeans. This week, he’s decided to let the tips of his hair turn a bright green and he looks absolutely _fantastic._

The pegasus under Harry’s hand stirs restlessly, reminding Harry of her presence and breaking him out of his _Zayn Is So Pretty_ trance. He turns back to Antheia and resumes combing through her coat. “Sorry, girl. Zayn scared me,” Harry whispers to his favorite winged horse. “What’s up, Z?”

“Nice flowers,” Zayn says, shrugging to gesture towards Harry.

A small smile spreads across Harry’s face and he digs his bare toes into the soft dirt floor underneath him in happiness. He’s found that he prefers to walk around the camp barefoot, it allows him to be closer to nature.

He should be used to it by now—everyone complimenting his flower crowns. There’s not been a day that Harry hasn’t gone without wearing one now that he’s started to practice his Chlorokinesis. Compliments come from every camper and other demigods have been requesting he make one for them. Harry wouldn’t mind sharing his talents, but he’s run into one little problem: the flowers can’t live unless they’re connected to him some way.

“Thanks.” Harry bites his lip shyly, and tries to restrain himself from touching the golden marigolds that bloomed in his hair this morning.

“Um, H, I mean. The, uh…”

Harry turns back to Zayn, eyebrows furrowed until he notices Zayn is gesturing at the ground around Harry’s feet.

Harry looks down and finds the little golden marigolds that are in his hair all over the floor of the stable, radiating out from where he’s standing. They’re gorgeous, but scary. Harry didn’t realise he was doing this, he didn’t even know he could do this.

He widens his eyes and looks back at Zayn. “Oh my gods—”

“Hey Z, what’s taking you so long?” Louis’ voice interrupts. “We’re supposed to meet Krissie by the lake in five min—oh, it’s you.” Louis finally rounds the corner of the stables and finds just exactly _who_ is making Zayn take so long.

Louis’ eyes are dark and seething. Harry doesn’t want to stare, but he can’t seem to look away. It’s been awhile since Harry’s seen Louis’ eyes in his dreams and even longer since he’s seen him in person, too busy with friends to seek out the son of Hermes.

“Nice flowers, newbie.” Harry flinches at Louis’ words. He’s heard the same two words come from many people, but none of the compliments ever carried any heat behind them, until now. Harry doesn’t blush, instead he cringes inwardly, afraid to hear anymore harsh, condescending words come from Louis.

Harry stares at the flowers on the ground. They’re beautiful and he’s proud of himself for creating them, but he’s also embarrassed. He can’t control himself and now both Zayn and Louis have witnessed a weakness of his. Harry stares at the flowers on the ground and wishes he could be better, he wishes he could control himself, especially in front of Louis.

Unease swirls in Harry’s gut and, uncontrollably, the flowers in front of him start slowly dying, shriveling up one by one. Harry prays to Hades to open up the ground underneath him right this instant so he could disappear instead of feeling Louis’ eyes piercing through him like a spear.

When Louis speaks next his voice is the softest Harry’s ever heard it. “We should get going, Zayn.” The son of Aphrodite only nods in response and both of them disappear.

Shame curls around Harry. His legs feel like jelly and he decides to sit before he falls. He looks at the flowers around him, all dead by now. Can’t he just do one thing right for a change?

❀

It’s a new day and a new Harry. He’s back to himself and he’s back to becoming everyone’s best friend and doing what he loves to do around the camp. It’s a better feeling than sitting on the floor of the stables for an hour surrounded by nothing but horses and dead flowers.

“There you go, Harry,” Dillon whispers in encouragement.

Harry concentrates even more, willing the moss on the tree to spread. Excitement spikes through Harry as he watches the green start to move, but as soon as he removes his hand, the moss stops growing and instead recedes back to its original size.

Harry lets out a harsh sigh and drops his hand to his side. “I just can’t do it Dillon.”

“You _can,_ Harry. It just takes practice. It took me a few months to perfect my Chlorokinesis.”

“I know, I know,” Harry sighs. “It’s just the only thing I have going for me right now and I just want to be good at _one_ thing.”

“If you put your heart in it H, then you’re already good at it. Just take your time and practice.”

Harry nods and places his hand on the trunk of the tree, going for another try.

❀

The first time Harry hears it, it’s a gorgeous sky blue morning and he’s on his way to his Ancient Greek History lesson.

Harry is his normal chipper self, always happy to wake up early to go through some yoga poses on the roof of the cabin and to practice his Chlorokinesis. His control is improving, but he could be better.

His hair is pulled into a loose bun at the top of his head, his bare feet digging into the grass, wet from the morning dew. It’s a refreshing feeling and Harry always loves feeling as close to the earth as possible. Harry’s appreciating the simple beauty of the morning, calling out to his mother Demeter in his head with gratitude for another lovely summer day, when a loud voice and a few stray snickers pull him out of his concentration.

“Hey flower boy!”

Harry looks around for the origin of the voice, smiling to himself. Flower boy. It’s a pretty nickname.

“Oh flower boy!” another voice calls out, pitch high and airy. It’s followed by more snickers.

Harry’s smile drops. They’re making fun of him. It’s not some cute, fun nickname like Harry thought it was. These people are calling him “flower boy” on purpose _and_ with ill intent.

Harry stops in his tracks and searches around, looking for anyone walking by him that looks like they would attempt to make fun of Harry for his godly given talent. Harry self consciously tries  run his hand through his curls, but realizes they’re tied up in a bun. He settles for running his fingertips over the yellow petals of the Blackeyed Susans that he chose to wrap around his hair today, hoping the action calms him down from the hot embarrassment and shame churning in his gut.

It doesn’t help and no one passing by looks even remotely guilty for the name-calling, so Harry carries on about his business and continues on his way to class—this time, with slight hesitation in each step he takes.  

❀

Harry rubs his sweaty palms against the rough surface of his jean shorts. He’s nervous and he feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb in the field. Everyone training around him is younger than he is, probably twelve years old at most. He stares at his surroundings, straw dummies circling the entire arena. The kids next to him are gracefully swinging their swords, practicing their technique, and battling against their coach. The fact that they’ve probably been doing this for at least four years by now is a little intimidating. It’s very intimidating.

Words of encouragement continuously flow from the coaches—the older sons and daughters of Ares acting as the perfect mentors for those beginning to learn and perfect the art of swordfighting. Harry stands at the sidelines self-consciously, waiting for his coach Isabella to return with a new sword for him to practice with. The one he was using prior caused him to almost fall to the ground, too heavy for him to lift into position. It was embarrassing.

“Hey, flower boy,” a soft, raspy voice greets from behind Harry, startling him.

The derogatory nickname causes anger to flood Harry’s veins. But when he turns around and finds Louis Tomlinson smirking at him, the heat of the anger fizzles out and his gut is immediately filled with disappointment and dread.

Does Louis know people are using that nickname to make fun of Harry? Is Louis using it on purpose?

“What do you want Louis? What are you doing here?” Harry tries to sound uninterested, but it comes across harsh. Harry doesn’t feel sorry at all when the playful smile drops from Louis’ face. (He feels a little sorry.)

Louis rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. The action makes Harry notice the armor he’s wearing a large and impressive sword attached to his hip. “Well excuse you. I’m here training some of the kids. It is my job, after all.”

Harry purses his lips. “I thought only Ares kids teach swordfighting.”

Louis smirks devilishly. “Yeah, they do. But wouldn’t it be unfair if the best swordfighter here didn’t share his secrets?”

“Hm, that’s weird. Where is he?” Harry mentally high fives himself, proud of his comeback.

“Guess you just don’t know talent when it’s staring you right in the face, flower boy.”

“Can you please not call me that?” Harry spits back, hot anger flashing across his features.

“What? Flower boy? Do you not think it’s appropriate? I feel like it is after what happened in the stables the other day.” Louis shrugs, but the rest of his body language reads like he has just won a battle and Harry guesses he has. He desperately wishes for Isabella to return right this instant, too embarrassed and upset to stand in front of Louis any longer.

Before Harry collapses or runs to find Isabella himself, Louis turns and walks away with a flourish to his hips. “See ya later, flower boy!” is thrown over his shoulder as he makes his exit.

Harry closes himself off and stares down Louis’ back as the tiny son of Hermes walks away back to what looks like to be his trainee. He can’t believe Louis is calling him _flower boy,_ let alone insinuating that he’s the origin of the nickname—drawing inspiration for it from one of Harry’s most embarrassing moments to date. It hurts.

Harry stares at Louis, watching the perfect elegance his body has, even with a heavy sword in his grip. He studies the way Louis moves and watches as he makes no mistake. Louis doesn’t have one misstep, he doesn’t make a wrong swing, he doesn’t let his opponent overpower him. It looks like he’s flying on the battlefield.

Harry bitterly wishes something would tie him down.

❀

Harry’s on the roof, body stretched into a downward dog. His back feels great, his muscles slowly releasing all of the tension throughout his yoga session. Harry’s too concentrated on perfecting his form, wanting to stretch properly, that he doesn’t notice the frantic camper running up to their cabin until he knocks loudly on the door, Dillon answering it immediately.

Their voices are frantic and confused and Harry falls out of position trying his best to eavesdrop.

“He’s stuck in bed.”

“Why’s that my problem?” Dillon questions. Harry can’t see her, but just from the tone of her voice he knows her eyebrows are arching over the frames of her glasses, inching towards her hairline.

“They’re _vines_.”

“Vines?”

Harry starts climbing down from the roof, a feeling of dread in his gut. Something’s not right and he doesn’t have a good feeling about this. His feet finally return to the ground as Dillon and the other camper start briskly walking across the field, to the opposite side of the cabin circle. They’re heading straight for—

Hermes.

Harry decides to chase after them, wanting to see whatever the Hermes Cabin and vines have in common at six in the morning. The sun has only been in the sky for thirty minutes at most. No one besides Harry is usually awake this early.

Harry catches up to Dillon and the boy easily enough, his long legs carrying him to them quickly. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Louis,” the boy says.

A lump grows in Harry’s throat, the size of a watermelon, making his breath catch in his throat. “L-Louis?”

“Paul here says he woke up early and saw vines climbing around Louis as he was sleeping.”

“Yeah. It scared me so much I let out a little high-pitched scream,” Paul admits, blushing. “I woke Louis up and he freaked out and suddenly the vines stopped moving lazily around him and decided to tie him down. It’s like,” Paul moves his hands wildly in front of him, trying to find the right words, “they wrapped around his ankles and wrists—even his stomach, like they didn’t want him to leave.”

Harry instantly worries. Only demigod children of Demeter can control plants with their Chlorokinesis. Paul had the right idea when he came to Dillon, but Harry has an unpleasant feeling in his gut that tells him she won’t be able to fix this herself.

The group make their way up the steps of the wraparound porch of the Hermes Cabin, passing under the caduceus above the door. Paul leads them straight into Louis’ room, where they find a scowling Louis spread on his bed, strapped down with beautiful green vines and leaves. The green looks beautiful against Louis’ golden skin and Harry would start waxing poetic about how the green compliments the blue of Louis’ eyes, but the irises currently staring at him are full of hatred.

“What are you doing here?” Louis spits the words Harry said to him yesterday right back at him. Harry’s shocked though, that out of everyone, Louis would choose to address Harry first. “Did _you_ do this?”

“I-I,” Harry stammers, shocked by the direct question, not knowing what to say. He doesn’t want to lie to Louis, but he isn’t sure if he has the ability to even do something like this.

Dillon totally ignores Louis and Harry’s back and forth, instead questioning Louis directly. “Can you move at all, Tommo?”

“Does it look like I can fucking move, Dill?”

“No need to get snappy with me, mister.”

Louis groans, squirming around trying to break free from the vines. Harry doesn’t want to admit it, but the sight of him is quite arousing. He looks away quickly, not wanting to become any more interested in Louis being tied to the bed in any situation.

“Flower boy! What are you _doing_?” Louis’ words make Harry look back at him. Harry’s shocked to find the vines wrapped around Louis are now starting to bloom roses. Harry dies a little on the inside, knowing exactly why his subconsciousness is growing roses on top of Louis after the sight he just witnessed. There’s no doubt now that it was Harry who did this. None at all.

It all makes Harry a little smug though. He was able to tie Louis Tomlinson down. The boy who always seems to be flying and winning at everything he does is now tied down the ground—to his bed.

“Who’s the flower boy now?” Harry smirks, punctuating his remark with a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow. He quickly turns his back on Louis and makes his way out of the Hermes Cabin.

Harry snickers to himself as he hears Louis yell profanities after him. Harry debates letting the vines grow stronger, to keep Louis down, but he uses his Chlorokinesis to will them away and to free him. Hopefully it works. Deep down inside, he’s somewhat hoping it doesn’t.

❀

“So you really were the one to tie Tommo down to his bed with vines?”

Harry shrugs. He closes his right eye, squinting his left, and aims at the target in his line of sight. The string is pulled taut, his arrow ready to be launched.

“Spread your legs a bit more,” Niall instructs, lightly tapping Harry’s left thigh with his own bow. “Good, now aim just a bit farther down.” Niall puts his palms on Harry’s shoulders, leveling them off slightly.

Harry concentrates on the target in front of him, ignoring Niall’s attempt at small talk for a moment. He really, _really_ wants to hit the target. There’s not one defensive skill Harry has any talent in. He _needs_ to hit the target. Harry lets the anger that’s been building in him since yesterday morning funnel itself into his fingers. He flexes the two fingers holding the string back, adjusting the notched arrow once before taking a deep breath and releasing the string as he exhales.

Harry watches the arrow as it cuts through the air. He wills it to tilt down, to hit the target, but alas it soars right over the target, no where near the bullseye. Maybe he put too much anger into it this time.

Harry lets out a sigh and drops his hands to his sides, all of the tension stored in his arms and shoulders disappearing. He puts the bow on the rack behind him and Niall, and sits on the pitiful overturned tree trunk acting as a bench next to it.

As Niall sets up his own shot, Harry finally speaks. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I.”

_Thump._

Harry looks up and sees Niall’s arrow wedged deep into the dead center of the bullseye, the tail of it still slightly wobbling from the force of the impact. Harry’s not surprised, Niall has a perfect shot each and every time.

“How’d you do it?” Niall puts his bow back delicately, wiping the nonexistent sweat from his forehead, joining Harry on the log.

“That’s what I don’t get, Niall. I didn’t do anything,” Harry insists. “My morning started off the same as any other. I was doing yoga on the roof, releasing all of the bad energy, reflecting on the summer so far, trying to think good thoughts, trying to think of how to be a better demigod. I really don’t know.”

Niall snorts. “You really do all that?”

Harry blushes, a bit embarrassed. “Well… yeah. It helps me focus. Sometimes it’s hard though, especially when some of the Ares boys come by and try to get on my nerves. I shrug it off, but sometimes it messes with me, ya know? I miss home a bunch and I just wanna stay in a good headspace and yoga helps.”

“Wait, stop there, H. What about the Ares boys?”

Harry shrugs, avoiding eye contact and crossing his arms over his chest, closing himself off. “In the morning, usually before anyone else wakes up, sometimes right before lessons start and no one is hanging around the cabins, a group of like three or maybe four Ares guys come say some choice words to me. About my hair, my clothes, the flowers, my yoga. Especially my flowers.”

“Haz, you _know_ that’s not okay, right? Have you talked to Chiron?”

Shaking his head, Harry whispers, “Niall, that would only make it worse.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I _do_ know that,” Harry insists, irritated. He stands, turning his back on Niall. “Thanks for the archery lesson.” He leaves Niall sitting on the log as he crosses the camp towards the cabins.

The day matches Harry’s mood. It’s gloomy and dark. The air is humid and damp with the promise of an impending rainstorm. He’s exhausted and it’s like the weather feels the exact same way. Harry’s day has dragged on after he woke from a restless and fitful night and it wasn’t made any better when his morning yoga session was interrupted more than once by the damn Ares boys.

There’s something on Harry’s mind and he can’t pinpoint exactly what it is.

That’s a lie, he knows exactly what’s wrong with him.

Harry walks back to Cabin Four with his head hung low, his eyes on his feet. He comes across a tiny pebble in his path, and he really, really wants to kick it out of his way in frustration but he resists—kicking any rock of any kind would not be a good idea with bare feet.

Harry simmers in his anger—sadness—disappointment— _whatever._ He just can’t stop thinking about what had happened yesterday with Louis. What he did to Louis wasn’t in his control, he didn’t know he was subconsciously tying Louis to his bed with vines. He feels bad. But then Harry feels like he deserved it, especially if Louis was the one who coined the term _flower boy._ It hurts that such a nice phrase is being used maliciously, especially by people who intend to harm him. Harry feels just as bad for calling Louis flower boy, knowing the kind of effect it has on him. He can’t fight fire with fire.

Harry just needs a good, long nap. A good, long sleep. Maybe he’ll fall into a deep sleep right now, skip dinner and the campfire, and sleep straight through to tomorrow morning, to a new day.

Harry walks into Cabin Four, the smell of wood and grass immediately hitting him in the face and calming him down. As he walks past the giant tree in the center that holds up the roof, he lets his palm run over the rough bark, saying a quick hello to his mother in his head.

He slowly makes his way to his room, too sluggish and drowsy considering it's only four in the afternoon. He opens the door, ready to throw his body on to his bed and sleep the afternoon away, but what he sees when he walks in makes him stop dead in his tracks. There’s no way he’s throwing his body onto his bed. Because it’s covered in silly string.

The whole room is covered. In silly string.

Harry groans in frustration, just wanting to cry. All he wanted was a good nap. Now he has to clean all this shit up.

Harry’s about to leave and seek refuge on a couch somewhere, or maybe a friend’s bed, when he notices a piece of paper daintily sitting on his pillow. He retrieves it and reads the note written.

_You kept me in bed, I’ll keep you out. Two can play at this game. Louis xx_

❀

“I’m telling you Zayn, it’s a prank war!”

“I don’t think it’s a prank war, Harry.”

Harry actively chooses to ignore Zayn. This is totally a prank war. Of sorts. There’s only one tiny problem though, and it’s that Harry doesn’t know any good pranks. Sons of Hermes are notoriously known for being the most mischievous people—they can prank anyone with their eyes closed and a hand tied behind their back. There’s no way Harry is going to win against Louis. The best Harry can do is try and if he irritates Louis just a little bit along the way, that’ll count as a success.

Harry finishes gathering everything he thinks he’ll need: a bucket and the shirt he made specifically with Louis in mind yesterday during arts and crafts with Niall. Zayn doesn’t have to help him if he doesn’t want to, but the fact that he hasn’t left yet is a good sign.

The pair make their way to the showers, Harry trying to act as nonchalant as possible. He doesn’t want to be caught looking suspicious.

Harry knows Louis just finished a sword fighting lesson and is now probably showering down, relaxing his muscles with hot water and steam. Harry’s plan isn’t brilliant, but he loves the playfulness behind it. He’s not going to hurt Louis and that’s all that matters.

They make their way into the showers and Harry smiles devilishly when he hears one showerhead running and Louis’ unmistakable soft singing. Harry quietly instructs Zayn to fill up the bucket with cold water while he starts switching out Louis’ clothing.

Harry’s quick and quiet as he makes his way towards Louis, clothes in hand. He has the special t-shirt he custom made just for Louis clutched tight to his chest, not wanting to let it drop to the ground, along with another … _special something_ he had Zayn find just for this prank.

He finds Louis’ things sitting on a bench in front of the shower stall, a pile of clothes next to a folded towel. Harry’s suddenly struck with the realization that he’s footsteps away from a completely naked, beautiful Louis who has no clue what’s about to happen to him. Harry starts to feel bad, but then he catches Zayn out of the corner of his eye hobbling towards them slowly with a bucket full of water in his hands. The sight reinvigorates Harry and he snatches every single piece of Louis’ clothing and replaces it with his two brand new hand-picked garments.

Harry quickly trades with Zayn, the clothes for the bucket. They nod silently at each other, having already planned to split up and meet each other back in the center of the cabins, where they’ll have a perfect line of vision of the showers.

 _Good luck,_ Zayn mouths at Harry before making his escape.

Harry takes a (quiet) deep breath and shuffles the bucket in his grip, getting in position. He stands close to Louis’ shower door and makes sure he’s able to reach over before he commits to what he’s about to do.

With one last inhale, Harry raises the bucket high and tips it over completely, letting the ice cold water rain over Louis Tomlinson.

Harry pauses, scared, for what feels like ten whole minutes. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he fucked something up. He knows he switched out the clothes, he knows Zayn is safely back by the cabins, he knows he just poured a bucket of cold water over Louis. The plan was perfectly conducted, but something feels wrong. Despite Harry’s internal battle, barely a second has past. Louis’ blood-curdling scream spurs him into action though, making Harry book it out of the showers, running with everything he has left in him towards Zayn. The words Harry can hear coming from Louis’ mouth are not pleasant words and they all vaguely sound like threats.

Harry throws his body down next to Zayn on the grass and looks down the path where he just came from. His eyes sneak in between the Artemis and Aphrodite Cabins, stuck on the front door of the showers. Not even moments later, a very tiny, very angry Louis Tomlinson comes barreling out the doors.

“Who did _this_?” Louis shouts, seething, his angry voice traveling far across the camp.

Harry stares at the son of Hermes, his jaw hanging open. Harry’s shock disappears though and turns straight into pure amusement. He can’t help but laugh. He lets out a full belly laugh, throwing his head back, grasping at his stomach. He laughs as he watches a damp Louis stand on the grass in front of the showers, hair dripping wet, dressed _only_ in a beautiful, hand-made pink and green tie-dye shirt and tiny, bright pink matching boxer briefs.

Harry can’t help but feel pride in his little prank. Louis looks glorious in the tie-dye shirt, which has blue flowers drawn on with puffy paint as well as the phrase “flower boy” across the chest. It suits him perfectly.

Louis doesn’t seem to think so though. His eyes finally land on Harry, who is still laughing his heart away and Louis does not look amused at all. Harry can’t see the exact color of Louis’ eyes because of how far away they are from each other, but Harry just _knows_ that if he looked at their blue color, it would look exactly like a brewing storm.

❀

Offering to teach a yoga class by the lake on a Saturday morning is the best idea Harry Styles has ever had. Not a lot of people show up, but the ones who do wake up to do sunrise yoga with Harry truly have a special place in his heart.

Harry guides everyone into their poses, a large smile on his face as he faces out towards Long Island Sound. The sun illuminates the surface of the water and the moment feels truly magical. It’s the best way possible to cool down after a very stressful week.

After pranking Louis, Harry had been on his toes everyday, anxious that at any moment the mischievous son of Hermes would exact his revenge. He lived his life in constant fear.

Not really.

It just felt that way. Always being anxious had taken its toll on Harry though, and the week dragged on, training feeling even more difficult than usual. The harsh words of the Ares boys had even began to chip away at Harry, causing him to hide away under his covers instead of climbing on the roof every morning to stretch his mind and body.

Letting out a week's worth of tensed muscles is the best feeling in the world and Harry’s glad he’s able to spend the whole morning with a bunch of friends and campers. The group spend many hours meditating and enjoying the early morning breeze that arrives once the sun is fully in the sky.

The camp is full of life by the time everyone reaches the end of their cool down. The weather is absolutely gorgeous and everyone seems to be gravitating towards the lake. The birds are chirping loudly, the tree branches lightly swaying with the breeze, the air filled with chatty conversations. It smells and sounds like you would expect summer to smell and sound like. Harry loves it.

Harry spends a few minutes after his cool down growing some beautiful blue orchids that nestle into his hair for the day while everyone around him packs up their yoga mats and bids their friends farewell. The thought of a shower races across Harry’s mind, but he decides against it for the moment, wanting to just lap the lake a few times to release some more of the toxic energy built up inside of him.

Harry asks Dillon to take his stuff back to their cabin before he’s off, starting a walking pace around the lake that soon turns into a brisk jog. Harry ignores everyone around him, dodging those in his path to continue at a consistent speed. He lets himself think as he feels the gentle ache in his calves build.

He misses home. Harry’s enjoyed his time at Camp Half-Blood, but he misses his family’s vineyards, the acres of vines spreading out over the land, accompanied by the gentle rolling hills. Harry misses his family—his dad, his stepmom, his little sister. Many people at the camp have become his family—his Demeter half-siblings that he spends his mornings, meals, and nights with, and Niall, Liam, and Zayn whom he met on his first day here and immediately made him feel like he belonged. Then, there’s Louis, who is an entirely different can of worms.

Harry still dreams about Louis. His blue eyes pierce Harry in some special type of way—they look right through him, analyzing every little bit of who he is. It’s disarming. But Harry just knows there’s something hidden in there. Each dream has a meaning or message that he can’t decrypt.

If Harry has learned anything during his time here at Camp Half-Blood is that his dreams mean something. He just can’t figure out what this one means.

Harry’s breathing is finally loud enough that it breaks through his concentration. He suddenly stops, deciding he needs to take a breather. He rests his palms on his knees and bends his back, taking deep breaths, trying to inhale as much sweet air as possible.

Once Harry’s breathing returns to normal, he begins to slowly walk back to his original starting position. The walk helps him cool down from the workout so his muscles don’t cramp. He takes the time to really study his surroundings, enjoying the view and snippets of conversations he overhears.

There are two girls lounging by the lake of the shore, most likely working on their tan, gossipping about some Apollo boy. There are a fair share of people swimming in the lake, some playing different kinds of water games, others simply doing laps or floating on their backs in relaxation. A large group of campers are playing an intense game of soccer. Even from where Harry’s walking he can tell how heated and competitive the match is getting. Someone steals the ball out from under the opposing team’s feet and races in the opposite direction, feet gracefully carrying them towards the goal.

That’s when Harry notices that someone is Louis.

He’s fast and plays dirty, but his winning smile is always enough to forgive the trick he just pulled on you. Harry’s mesmerized by the game and how Louis plays and fights for his team. He’s passionate and skilled and Harry could probably watch Louis play all day if it meant he could stare at him like this.

The game comes to an end as Louis scores. The crowd that the game has amassed starts chanting _“Hermes! Hermes! Hermes!”_ Harry guesses with a chuckle to himself that maybe the Hermes Cabin had won that round. It seems like the whole entire Cabin has shown up for the match and now everyone is gathered together and celebrating, patting each other on the back and passing out hugs.

Harry watches from afar as he rounds the lake. He smiles to himself, loving the comradery and sportsmanship everyone, for the most part, has at Camp Half-Blood. But that’s when Louis catches Harry’s eye, making him freeze on the spot. Harry panics, wondering what Louis is going to do to him. Will he spit at him? Give him a dirty look? Throw some threats his way?

What Louis actually does surprises Harry, because he smiles softly at Harry, and tilts his head, almost like he’s gesturing for him to come closer.

Harry smiles back, hoping the fear in his gut doesn’t translate to his face. He makes his way towards Louis, whose smile has only been gradually increasing

“Hey there flower boy,” Louis chirps once Harry’s close enough.

Harry bites his tongue, _hard,_ willing himself not to feel the pain that he knows the words conjure in him. “Hey. Uh, nice game.”

“Thanks!” Louis’ smile is brighter than the sun in the sky. “I saw you doing yoga this morning with everyone. Pretty impressive.”

“You were awake early enough?” Harry teases.

“Ha-ha, Styles. Of course I was awake. Had to do some stretching of my own,” Louis winks. Harry raises his eyebrow, not at all believing him. “I swear! I had to stretch and warm up for the Hermes vs. Ares soccer match. They’re a tough group to beat but I can always do it.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Of course you can.”

Louis beams. “Of course I can! I’m Louis Tomlinson!”

Movement from behind Louis causes Harry’s eyes to flick over the boy’s shoulder, where he finds a group of what are probably Louis’ half-siblings standing together, staring at him and Louis. It all seems very suspicious.

“Uh… Louis?” Harry tries, but is immediately interrupted by the mischievous boy.

“I saw you lapping around the lake. You started running pretty hard. Do you do that often?”

“Not really—” A violent tug coming from behind cuts Harry off and the voice only causes further confusion.

“Lou! Grab his legs!”

Suddenly, Harry is in the air. His eyes are looking up at the sky, he has arms around his chest and there are hands on his ankles. No matter how hard he flails, the hands keep their firm grip. When he starts moving, he hears cheering, which only eggs on his captors even more.

Harry has no clue what’s happening to him. One second he was having a civil conversation with Louis and now… Louis is carrying Harry by the legs towards the—lake?

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise. He figures out exactly what’s happening seconds before it does. He holds his breath as the hands release his body. The last thing he hears before he’s fully submerged in the lake is the deafening cheers coming from the Hermes campers.  

Harry breaks the surface of the water, breathing heavy. His heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach as he watches Louis and his half-brother Alexander laugh their asses off on the shore.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood,” Alexander shouts. The crowd cheers. Louis doesn’t look one bit upset.

Harry wishes something would grab his ankle and pull him down into the depths of the lake. He’s been hazed. He’s been at this camp for weeks, and _now_ they decide to go through with this “new camper initiation”? Louis has probably been planning since Harry showed up. Louis has probably had this planned since he gave Harry his own orange camp t-shirt.

“Enjoy your stay, flower boy!” Alexander adds on, clutching his stomach from how hard he’s laughing. Louis’ smile darkens with his half-brother’s words though; he looks guilty.

Harry can’t stand the humiliation anymore. He ducks his head underwater and sees how long he can last before needing to resurface for air.

❀

Harry’s not hiding away. He swears he’s not. He’s just. Busy.

Yeah. He’s just busy.

His best friends have become the flowers. He’s been practicing his Chlorokinesis, trying to make it absolutely perfect. When he’s not at his scheduled daily activities, he’s on the roof of Cabin Four, meditating and talking to Demeter in his head. He speaks to her regularly, or he likes to think he is. He never receives an answer, but he believes she’s listening to him, just waiting for the moment to step in.

He tells her about how he’s feeling. He tells her what he tells everyone else.

“Oh, I’m fine, just been wanting to practice and study more. Yeah, there’s nothing wrong.”

“No, I’m not skipping meals. I’m not forcing myself to be alone, I just need to focus.”

He tells her what he doesn’t tell everyone else.

“I’m starting to feel isolated. I feel too embarrassed to even go to lessons most days.”

“I’m scared to go to the dining pavilion because I’m scared everyone’s eyes will be on me all over again. I’m desperate for attention, but from the one person who won’t give it to me.”

So Harry sticks to himself. He does the bare minimum to get by and he pretends to ignore the concerned glances Chiron throws his way each time he doesn’t participate during his Ancient Greek lessons like he used to. Harry spends all his time tediously perfecting his Chlorokinesis.

Apparently Harry’s the first one to ever climb up to the roof of Cabin Four and spend time there. It’s a funny thought because why would you not want to hang out on a grasstop roof? So it becomes exclusively Harry’s space. He doesn’t think any of his other half-siblings care, and if they did, they could always confront him about it.

Harry’s learned that it’s nice to have a space of his own in such a brand new, wild, energetic place. He’s never been the kind of person to constantly spend all of his time around people, no matter how much he likes them, so the rooftop offers the escape he sometimes needs. Although the “sometimes needs” have slowly been turning into “always needs”.

The roof of the Demeter Cabin, according to Dillon, has always been covered in grass. It’s beautiful and soft to the touch; it shines and shimmers under the sunlight _and_ moonlight. But Harry thinks it could use more color—more character. He rushes to Dillon, the Head Counselor of the Demeter Cabin, with the idea to grow flowers on the roof, in some kind of color pattern or shape, just in case he needs permission for this sort of thing. She doesn’t seem to mind though and Harry instantly becomes obsessed with this little pet project of his.

He spends every moment of free time sitting cross-legged on the grass of the roof, concentrating on growing flowers straight from the soil and nutrients available to him. Harry’s Chlorokinesis is still not perfect, but he tries and tries and tries every day.

So many of the demigods at Camp Half-Blood have contributed to the community, whether that’s by giving back in some form of teaching or mentoring, or whether it’s going on quests and protecting the camp. It seems like everyone has left their mark in one way or another, and Harry wants to leave his. He _wants_ this, to simply grow flowers on the roof of the cabin he lives in, so bad he aches with it. This is important to Harry and he finally feels like he has a purpose at the camp.

❀

It’s been a beautiful summer so far. Harry wishes he was back in the heat of a true California summer, but experiencing a New York summer for the first time ever has been exciting.

The mornings are humid and sticky, the sun breaking through the sky with clear intentions. The days are dry and sometimes unbearable, but Harry’s Cali blood can tolerate it. Evenings are sweet with the smell of burning wood and the saltwater scent that is carried in on light breezes. Every hour of every day seemingly has a different personality and Harry’s enjoyed being able to meet them all.

Mornings are probably Harry’s favorite. It’s when he can be alone. The roof is pretty windy, and he doesn’t say a word. It’s just him and the moon, before the sun awakes.

Harry has been making progress on his project, too. He’s been able to grow at least one carnation or peony at a time on the roof and have it stay for a solid ten minutes before it wilts away into nothing. His short-term goal is to grow at least one flower and have it stay for a whole day. His long-term goal is cover the whole roof and have it stay for a few days, maybe a week if he’s lucky.

Harry thinks his progress has been pretty good so far, his concentration is particularly focused this morning, which is exactly why someone has to come and ruin it. It’s just his luck.

“You!” an angry, tiny voice yells out from under Harry, from the ground. “You took it, didn’t you?!”

Harry doesn’t know what he took or who he took it from, but he’s pretty pissed off that he’s being yelled at by some random camper at six in the morning.

“What did I take?” Harry asks into the air nonchalantly, not even bothering to peer over the edge of the roof to see who his accuser actually is.

The grunt of frustration that follows would be hilarious to Harry if it didn’t sound so familiar. He swallows hard and finally turns his body to see who’s bothering him and he finds a tiny, sleep-rumpled Louis standing at the edge of Cabin Four. The bags under his eyes are evident, his hair is quite tousled and messier than normal, and he’s dressed in an old ratty, faded Camp Half-Blood orange shirt.

“Stop fucking messing around with me, Harry. I don’t have time for this,” Louis sighs tiredly. “Just give it back.”

Harry blinks, not really understanding Louis’ words. “Give _what_ back?”

“Can we not play games, please?” Louis sounds genuinely upset, which confuses Harry even more.

Harry unfolds his legs and slowly climbs his way off the roof using the vines growing on the side, not really wanting to continue this kind of conversation via shouting from the roof. Besides, the whole camp is probably asleep, no need to wake them up.

When Harry’s feet finally reach the ground and he leads Louis to a more private area, he finds that Louis won’t even look him in the eye. Harry is a bit furious. If anyone should be avoiding eye contact, it should be Harry, who is still in shock from the  humiliation of Louis and Alexander throwing him into the lake.

The tension between the two of them is evident and visible. Harry doesn’t like that most of it is coming from Louis.

“I don’t understand, Louis. Can you explain what’s wrong?” Harry pleads, speaking first because it was obvious Louis wasn’t going to.

After Louis processes what Harry said, his head snaps up. His eyes are a _stunning,_ electrifying shade of blue and Harry if he were to stare into them any longer, he’d get shocked by their charge. It’s obvious that Louis is angry. He’s furious. With Harry? That part is not as clear.

“Can _I_ explain what’s _wrong_ ?!” Louis almost shouts. “What the _fuck,_ Harry! Who do you think you are?”

“What the fuck, Louis! Stop shouting at me, I did nothing wrong!”

“You did nothing wrong? Then where is my Abba Gold? Who took it, Harry? Literally no one has been in my room besides you, Dillon, and Paul. If you were able to grow fucking vines in my room, then why should I trust that you didn’t take my vinyl?”

“Your vinyl?”

Louis groans in frustration, hands pulling hard at the strands of his hair. He paces around in circles, his anger growing by the second. Harry is quite afraid of the Louis he’s seeing.

“Fucking hell, Harry! Stop it! I’ve heard you walking around singing Dancing Queen.”

“So what, Louis? I like Abba?”

“You don’t understand, Harry! That vinyl is special to me. It’s the original 1992 vinyl that my dad gave my mom when they met. She listened to it all throughout her pregnancy with me. I listened to it growing up—my mom, she gave it to me. It’s the most special thing I’ve ever owned and now it’s _gone,_ all because of you.” Louis pokes Harry hard on his chest.

Harry thinks he’s starting to understand, but he doesn’t know why Louis thinks he took it. Why would Harry steal something so important to Louis? No matter how much they dislike each other, Harry would never destroy something that means so much to the other boy. Harry doesn’t want to agitate Louis any farther though, he already seems quite sensitive.

“Louis,” Harry tries, slowly and softly, not wanting to startle the boy. “I didn’t take your greatest hits vinyl, I swear to the gods. I didn’t even know you owned it.”

“Well who took it then, Harry?”

“Please just calm down, Louis. We can figure this out together.”

Louis throws his hands up in exasperation and sighs. “I don’t need your help, I just need you to give me back my vinyl.”

Louis turns, arms crossed over his chest defensively, and leaves Harry. He watches Louis as he angrily stalks away back towards his cabin.

Such a good day has already gone sour and it hasn’t even really started yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis stares at the empty spot on his bedside table where his most prized possession used to be sat on display. He won’t cry. He won’t. Instead he turns over and closes his eyes, burrowing into his sheets despite the humidity in the cabin.

He falls asleep quickly, and once he does, he wishes he hadn't.

Louis is walking around the camp, it’s a regular day, but there’s fog. A lot of fog. Louis wanders around, visibility at its lowest point, trying to figure out what’s happening. He starts off near Zeus’ Fist in the North Woods, where the camp plays their Friday games of Capture the Flag. The giant pile of rocks literally look like a pile of shit, except for one specific angle, where it looks like a large fist. Since the name “Poop Pile” has been prohibited, Zeus’ Fist is its name.

Dream Louis doesn’t want to go further into the woods so he walks towards the Pegasus Stables where he finds… no pegasi. None. No winged horses, no trainers, nothing. It’s dead empty. Louis shrugs and continues walking, letting his mind wander as he looks over the Strawberry Fields from a distance. As a Head Counselor, Louis has been able to avoid the job of strawberry picking, but most, if not all, of the younger campers have strawberry picking duty built into their schedules. After all, to the outside world—to anyone who is not a demigod, Camp Half-Blood is known by its cover name Delphi Strawberry Service. The camp mostly grows the strawberries to pay for camp expenses, but using it as cover works just as well.

Louis walks towards the Forge next, where marble columns line soot-stained walls. The roof is intricately decorated with carvings of gods and monsters. The structure features a chimney and a waterwheel, which always works overtime on any normal camp day, pumping plumes of smoke and spinning nonstop, but right now there’s no movement. It is highly suspicious. It’s bad enough that this dense, ominous fog is covering the camp, but the fact that there is no life _anywhere_ is extremely suspicious and scary.

The Forge is scary when it’s not populated by the friendly faces of Liam and his Hephaestus half-siblings. Louis quickens his pace and passes by the silent building, following the dirt path to what he hopes is the arena.

Louis wonders where everyone went. Why is he the only one in the camp and does the ominous fog have anything to do with their disappearances?

As Louis passes by the arena, he feels hopeful thinking he can hear swords clashing and people laughing, but when he gets close enough to peer into the circular structure, it’s completely empty. The ghostly sounds of fighting and laughing have disappeared and all that’s left is a chill in the air that Louis feels rush through his veins. It’s an odd sensation and Louis leaves immediately, hoping the cabins will be more promising.

The fog gets thicker and thicker as Louis wanders into the field, the cabins surrounding him on all sides. He stands in the center, right next to Hestia’s hearth and spins in circles, trying to figure out why he hears fire crackling when the hearth is barren and empty, no flames flickering like they usually would be.

That’s when Louis see it—one of the cabins engulfed in violent flames. Louis’ heart quickens and he starts breathing heavy. He wants to run over to the burning building, but his feet are rooted in the ground—literally. Growing straight out of the ground, roots wrap around Louis’ ankles, keeping him where he’s standing permanently. There’s nothing he can do as he watches bright orange and yellow destroy one of the most beautiful cabins at Camp Half-Blood.

The light of the fire burns Louis’ eyes, but he keeps them open wide, not wanting to even blink and miss one second of the disaster happening in front of him. The burning smell that is wafting through the air is putridly sweet and overwhelming. The sounds of crying mix with the brutal crackle of the flames.

Wait.

Crying?

Louis stares at the building, wondering if the crying is coming from the inside. He desperately hopes not, not wanting to watch someone die before his eyes without any way to help them. Then, the fog clears and that’s when Louis sees him—a boy kneeling on the ground in front of the flames, his body folded in on itself. He’s shaking with the force of his tears and Louis eagerly wants to run up to him and hold him. Whoever he is, Louis wants to stop his pain.

“Hey!” Louis calls out, his voice weak and throat raw. He tries again and the boy freezes when he hears him. He turns, head whipping around to stare straight at Louis.

That’s when Louis recognizes the eyes. The eyes that have been haunting him for _months._ Eyes as green as new foliage, as green as fresh cut grass. Eyes that are full of sadness and anger. Sadness and anger that is directed straight at Louis.

Sadness and anger that belong to Harry Styles. Because that’s who the green eyes belong to. Harry Styles.

After so many months of not knowing. After so many months of being haunted by stunning green eyes—after so many months of seeing them in person without even realizing. Those green eyes belong to Harry. Harry who is currently crying over his flaming cabin, all because of Louis.

Harry is screaming at Louis. He’s stopped crying and his face is bright red and he’s approaching the stuck Louis fast. Louis doesn’t hear a word he’s saying, too frightened and shocked for his senses to work.

Seconds before Harry crashes into Louis out of anger and sadness, Louis jolts awake, his body shaking and sweating in his bed. He breathes heavily as he tries to figure out what it all meant.

All Louis can focus on though is the fact that those mysterious green eyes belong to Harry and Louis hates himself for not realizing it sooner.  

☤

“He still hasn’t given me my Abba back yet,” Louis pouts, body sinking deep into Liam’s mattress.

“Maybe because he didn’t take it, Louis,” Liam tries to reason. He hasn’t been very helpful, too distracted by the blueprints, sketches, and plans for the next little trinket he wants to conjure up.

Louis needed someone to complain to and he knew Liam wasn’t hiding away in the Forge at this time of day, rather hiding away in his room, back hunched over his desk as he perfected the plans for his many inventions. Those children of Hephaestus, they never slow down. He knew he could whine and complain all he wanted to to Liam without having him add to the conversation, so it was definitely a win in Louis’ book. But now Liam is actually _trying_ to talk back to Louis so it’s all backfiring.

“Maybe he did take it, Liam,” Louis bites back. “Who else would?”

Liam sighs and looks up from his notebook, stretching his back with a crack as he does. “I don’t know Lou, but I know Harry wouldn’t. Stop being stubborn and say sorry to the boy. You threw him in a lake.”

“Yeah and he took my greatest hits vinyl.”

“No he didn’t.”

Louis huffs and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “I need to find a way to get back at him.”

“Louis! This is _not_ a prank war, no matter what you two dumbasses think. Stop trying to one up each other. Someone will get hurt if this goes on any further.”

“I’m already hurt, Liam! He took my vinyl,” Louis whines.

Everyone keeps telling Louis that Harry didn’t steal his Abba: Gold, but honestly, who else would want to mess with Louis that much? If Harry was able to grow vines in Louis’ bedroom without going undetected, then he’s probably able to steal a vinyl the same way. Nobody sees how sneaky Harry is except for Louis and it’s frustrating.

Plus, it’s been a week since Louis’ creepy fire dream, so he’s a bit on the edge when it comes to the curly haired flower boy.

Louis sighs and decides to change the subject—there’s no need to fight with Liam over this anymore than he already has. He pulls himself up off of Liam’s too soft bed to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.

“Tell me what you’re planning on making.”

And it’s like Louis flipped a switch—Liam comes alive, his chocolatey brown eyes lighten and a smile takes over his face. “There’s gonna be _fire_ and a dragon head,” Liam grins happily.

Louis smiles right back and lets his friend explain each and every mechanic while also slowly building a plan in the back of his head.

☤

The Hephaestus Cabin is probably one of the most intimidating cabins at Camp Half-Blood with its dirty brick exterior and the oversized smokestack sticking out of the top. Louis’s not scared though, he’s been in and out of the cabin plenty of times, and, despite the geniuses that live there, it’s one of the easiest cabins to break into at Camp Half-Blood.

Which is exactly what Louis is attempting to do right now. It’s the perfect time of day to wander through a cabin that’s not yours—everyone is at lunch. Everyone except for Louis, who is skipping so he can wander through a cabin that’s not his.

The entrance of the cabin is similar to a vault door, circular and formidable, made of thick metal. It requires a lot of turning gears and hissing smoke to open, but since Louis is best friends with the Head Counselor, he knows exactly how to open the door the easy way, while also being  completely silent.

As Louis sneaks inside, he’s shocked to find the usual messy interior to pretty tidy. It’s probably because cabin inspections are happening later this afternoon. Louis sends a quick thank you to the gods—they’ve just made his job ten times easier.  

Louis climbs the stairs to the second floor and makes his way towards the only single bedroom in the cabin. Everyone at the camp has at least one half-sibling roommate, unless they’re part of a cabin that doesn’t have a large population (like the minor gods). The Head Counselors always get their own rooms though, which is honestly the best part of the job. Liam’s room, however, is the best Head Counselor room Louis has ever seen. His bunk is made out of steel and features a fancy digital control panel with blinking LED lights, glowing gems, and spinning gears. At the footboard, there is a built-in gaming system—which Louis loves taking advantage of to play Fifa on—and the headboard is equipped with a stereo system. The whole entire thing is decked out with buttons and controls and Louis has no clue what any of it does, but it’s all pretty rad.

Another perk to being the Hephaestus Head Counselor means that Liam has his own personal workbench in his room, unlike everyone else who has to go to the basement to work. It’s yet another perk for Louis because it’s then ten times easier for him to steal his friends inventions so he can play with them. He doesn’t have to break into the basement and sort through piles of power tools, assortments of weapons, or heaps of scrap metal lying around—Liam keeps everything nice and tidy.  

Louis quickly seeks out the clock on Liam’s bedside table and curses the gods when he notices he spent way too much time fucking around and not enough time searching for what he missed a meal and snuck into one of his best friend’s cabin for. The rest of the campers should be making their way back from lunch any minute now and Louis is completely screwed if anyone catches him. He’s on thin ice with the Hephaestus kids already, there’s no need to add more insult to injury by being caught.

Louis searches Liam’s shelves high and low, looking for the newest project he just completed. Louis has been watching him make it for almost a week and now it’s finally done. It’s sick and Louis is absolutely in love with it—he can’t wait to get his hands on it.

He finally finds it in the back of Liam’s very tidy closet, probably hiding it away in there because he had an inkling Louis’ grabby hands would try to go after it. Louis just can’t help himself—being a master thief and prankster runs in his half-human, half-godly blood.

Louis is careful as he picks up the bronze dragon head. It’s a cool looking contraption, built just for fun rather than for practical use. Liam says building frivolous things just for fun is an excellent way to foster innovation and get his creative juices flowing. It’s about the size of a coconut and it’s not has heavy as he expected it to be. He’s excited to play around with it, especially since he knows the cool tricks it can do. Like breathing fire.

Louis holds the head up to eye level and smirks devilishly. “You and me are going to have so much fun—”

The vault door to the cabin hisses as it opens and a bunch of loud voices start reaching Louis’ ears from the first floor.

“Fuck,” Louis whispers to the head. “Where am I gonna put you?”

A minute or two later Louis is stealthily trying to sneak down the stairs to make his escape, the dragon head hidden horribly behind his back as he keeps it facing the wall, just in case. He _almost_ makes it to front door when someone clears their throat.

Louis turns slowly to look at a small girl with feisty eyes and frizzy blonde hair. He smiles at her, baring all his teeth, trying not to be suspicious at all. “Hiya Carmen!”

“Louis,” she says, voice even, arms folded over her chest. Louis swallows hard, hoping he’s not visibly sweating under her hard gaze.

“Have you seen Liam? Been looking for him. He’s not—his room is empty. ” Louis shrugs, both hands still gripping tight to the dragon head.

Carmen stares at Louis. “He’s on his way back from lunch. You can wait outside for him,” she adds dismissively before turning around and walking away from him in a flurry of frizzy hair.

Louis lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and makes his way out of the cabin, paranoid that someone else will catch him. These kids really don’t like him. Louis thinks to himself that maybe he should stop stealing from them.

He makes it out the door and walks only a few steps before colliding into a brick wall—the chest of Liam Payne. Louis stumbles back as he squeaks, hands still holding the dragon head behind his back. Liam grabs Louis’ shoulders to stop him from falling and by the look on his face, Louis can already tell that Liam knows something isn’t right. Louis does a quick check of his surroundings, noticing groups of people are walking back from lunch. It’s way too many people for Louis’ liking. If Liam’s going to catch Louis red handed, he would be prefer to be reprimanded indoors rather than in the middle of the field.

“Hey Li!” Louis smiles, large and fake.

“What’s behind your back, Lou?” Liam’s hands are still on his shoulders. Louis tries squirming free but Liam’s strength is too much to even try to go against.

“Nothing,” Louis lies. He’s a good liar.

“Why are you walking out of my cabin?”

“Was looking for you,” Louis nods.

“You found me.”

“I found you!” Louis laughs, it sounds even faker than his smile looked.

“Why are your hands behind your back?”

Louis swallows hard, too choked up to answer. Fuck. He really didn’t want to get caught. He just wanted to have fun. Louis’ hands start getting a little sweaty and the dragon head starts slipping, so he adjusts his grip, a beeping noise coming from behind him as he does so. He curses silently, knowing he must’ve hit a button or something in the process. He’s gonna fuck this up. Great.

“Louis, give it back.”

Louis shakes his head no like a child. He bites his lip and looks to his left, trying to see if he has a clear path to run away. Suddenly, Harry crosses the field into Louis’ line of sight and Louis’ eyes automatically flip over to the beautiful boy who Louis just so happens to hate. Louis doesn’t know why, but he feels like running towards the son of Demeter is a good idea, so as quick and smoothly as possible, Louis dodges out of Liam’s grip and runs in the direction of Harry. He’s currently passing by Zeus’ Cabin, so that’s where Louis heads.

“Louis! Stop it!” Liam shouts out after Louis, chasing his friend down. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’m having _fun,_ Liam!” Louis shouts back.

The wind runs through Louis’ hair as he books it across the field, a smile spreading over his face. He brings the dragon head around to his front so he can hold it more comfortably.

Instantly, Louis feels his stomach drop to his ass. His feet stumble one over the other and suddenly, Louis’ feet are in the air and his chest is flat on the ground, the dragon head nowhere in sight.

Louis faintly registers Liam shouting, “Watch out!” Louis doesn’t know what to watch out for until he hears a loud roar of a beast—of a dragon. The temperature of the surrounding air raises dramatically and Louis starts sweating as the dragon head lying on the ground a few feet in front of him starts actually breathing fire.

“Shit!” Louis yells, scrambling to his feet and reaching for the dragon. His hand immediately gets burned as he makes contact with it. “Fuck!”

“Back away, Louis. Let the adults handle this,” Liam growls, holding Louis from behind, his arms wrapping around Louis’ chest. Out of nowhere, a group of Liam’s half-siblings come to the rescue and immediately neutralize the fire breathing dragon head.

Louis ignores them as they work and takes inventory of the camp to see if he caused any injury to fellow campers or any damage to the cabins. Louis almost chokes on his spit as he notices Harry lying on the ground, probably knocked out from the blast of the dragon’s explosive fire spewing. Louis pales as he realizes the fire was probably shot directly _towards_ Harry. He prays to Hermes that he didn’t hurt the boy. He would never want to hurt Harry.

Louis wants to run to him as Harry sits up in a haze, but Liam’s arms are holding him _tight._ Harry’s crying and all Louis wants to do is run towards him and comfort him. But why is Harry crying? Louis doesn’t want him to cry.

That’s when the smell hits him. A smell very familiar. The burning smell that is wafting through the air is putridly sweet. Louis realizes he smelled the exact same thing in his dream. He wants to run towards it, towards Harry. But he’s stuck—he’s rooted to the ground, all thanks to Liam who has his body in a death grip.  

Instead, Louis does what he can and he finally tears his eyes off of the crying Harry and finds the Demeter Cabin exactly how he expected to find it.

In flames.

☤

Louis sits on the ground outside the Infirmary, his head in his hands in shame. Currently, the entire Demeter cabin is being treated inside, whether they were inside the cabin or not during the attack.

_The attack._

Gods, that’s what everyone is calling it and it fucking sucks because everyone knows it was Louis’ fault. He didn’t want to attack Harry and his half-siblings, he didn’t want to attack his home. It was all an accident. A stupid, dumb accident.

Most of the cabin is fine, but the one thing Harry had treasured and cherished—the one thing he held closest to his heart—Louis destroyed. Louis destroyed the beautiful garden on the roof that Harry spent a month trying to grow. The moment Harry successfully grew a full garden _by himself_ on the roof, Louis had to destroy it all in one second.

People walk past Louis but they rightfully ignore him. They don’t even look his way or acknowledge his existence. So Louis spends the whole entire afternoon sitting outside on the ground, reflecting over everything that caused the attack to happen and what went down afterwards.

Chills wrack Louis’ body as he remembers the way Harry had ran towards him, shouting and screaming, when he finally realized who started the fire. He was so angry and sad. In that moment Louis wanted to go back to the first day Harry had came to Camp Half-Blood and start apologizing then. He never wanted this tiny feud between the two of them to go this far. Louis just wanted to be friends with Harry, but the newbie had ignored Louis. It felt like such a huge blow to Louis’ ego that he didn’t know what to do except fight back. He wishes he hadn’t. He wishes he could’ve just tried harder with Harry. Maybe one day he can make it all right, but right now the possibilities are looking pretty slim.

Louis’ been sitting there so long that dinnertime is approaching. Many of the Demeter campers have been checked out of the Infirmary, but Louis knows Harry is still in there. He doesn’t know whether Harry is hiding from him because he knows Louis is sitting around waiting for him, or if Harry has actual injuries.

Louis stares at his nails, which he’s been anxiously biting down to the nub all day when a few pairs of feet stop in front of him. He doesn’t bother acknowledging them, knowing whoever it is wouldn’t want to talk to him right now, especially after what he had done. But when the person above him clears their throat, Louis can’t help but look up.

He lifts his hand cover over his eyes, to block out the setting sun that’s shining into them. The glare causes him to squint and he can’t really see the three boys in front of him until the middle one shifts slightly to his left, blocking the light from reaching Louis with his body. Louis’ hand drops to his lap with a quiet _“oh”_ slipping from his lips as he realizes who the three boys standing in front of him are.

Louis Tomlinson and Axel Muller do not have a friendly past. The son of Ares has always been a pretentious asshole at best, walking around the camp like he owns it with his two pinhead best friends and half-siblings Chuck Lally and Pete Hernandez mindlessly trailing behind him. Axel has had it out for Louis ever since Chiron let Louis become head swordfighter. Axel argued that only children of Ares had taught swordfighting and that it should stay that way, but Louis’ skills were too great not to use. Louis had tried being friendly with the meatheads, but Axel has always been a jerk and always will be. He’s the _one_ person in this whole entire camp who Louis actually, genuinely dislikes.

“What do you want, axe head?” Louis spits.

“We saw what you did to flower boy,” Axel smirks.

Louis swallows hard. “Flower boy?” Louis thought he was the only one at the camp using the cute nickname.

Chuck scoffs and in a thick southern accents adds, “Yeah, that Styles kid. The newbie.”

“Yeah man! The way the fire just… went _aaahhh_ ,” Pete intelligently adds, miming flames with his hands. “It was sick, dude! Good job!”

“Good job?” If Louis could look at his own reflection right now, he would probably be as pale as a ghost.

Axel snorts. “We’ve been trying to get under his skin this whole time and you finally got through to him and put him in his place. Good on you, Tommo. Congratulations.”

Louis nods, keeping his mouth shut. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He’s disgusted with himself. He’s a horrible person. The Ares jerks have been heckling Harry this whole time and they’ve just _congratulated_ Louis on causing the sweet boy emotional pain. Louis can’t believe the one person he hates in this entire camp just oddly complimented him. Louis feels like actual trash. A compliment coming from Axel Muller is not a compliment at all.

Louis needs to fix this and he needs to fix this fast. He does not want to be seen as a hero in the eyes of Axel, Chuck, and Pete.

☤

Louis is still sitting in front of the Infirmary by the time dinner has come and gone and the sun has set. Everyone had been cleared by the healers to leave—everyone except Harry. Louis would know—he has watched every single Demeter camper come out of the building except for Harry. On her way out, Dillon stopped long enough in front of Louis—he hoped she would tell him whether or not Harry was okay, but all she did was give him a look that could kill before angrily walking off.   

After the Ares boys had talked to Louis, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t leave without seeing or speaking with Harry. By the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like Louis is going to be going back to his cabin tonight.

“Have you had dinner?”

Louis startles and looks up to find Chiron standing over him. “No,” he answers shortly. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Harry.”

Chiron hums thoughtfully. “What are you going to say to the young man when you speak with him?”

Louis freezes. He actually—he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.  “I don’t know… I just. I want to fix this all. I want to show him I’m sorry.”

“Well Louis,” Chiron sighs. “If you would really like to show how sorry you are, you’d have to make quite a large gesture.” Louis nods, following Chiron’s words with rapt attention. “Why don’t you take a walk to the dining pavilion and ask the nymphs if they have enough leftover food for you and Harry. Neither of you have had dinner tonight.”

Louis swallows and wordlessly stands. He’s about to walk off without waiting for further instruction to come from the centaur, but his gruff voice stops Louis before he can take two footsteps.

“Oh, and Louis. As you walk, try to _really_ think of a way to make it up to Harry. He deserves it. You both do.” Chiron walks away before Louis can, leaving the son of Hermes feeling open and exposed in the dark of the night. He can hear his fellow campers in the distance laughing and singing around the campfire and Louis truly wishes he could forget about the day’s activities and join them, but he has a son of Demeter to share a meal with and to say sorry to.

☤

Louis knocks on the door and waits, but no one answers. He waits a few minutes before entering without permission.

Just like he guessed, Harry is curled up on his infirmary bed on his side, sleeping away. Louis feels odd and intrusive being in the room without the younger boy’s permission, but Louis has brought him food and he’s not leaving until he sees Harry eat some of it. Louis sits cross-legged on the empty chair placed next to Harry’s bed. He puts food for Harry on the side table and starts eating his own food as he watches Harry sleep.

Louis goes over what he’s planned to talk to Harry about in his head when the son of Demeter finally begins to stir.

“Hey,” Louis whispers. “Hey, Harry. Wake up, love. I’ve brought you dinner.”

Harry grumbles sleepily, his fists rubbing at his eyes. Louis feels a little twinge in his chest.

“Harry, you should eat something.”

Louis finally gets Harry to fully wake up and start eating the food he brought him. The room is eerily silent as they chew through their dinners. Louis wants to break the silence desperately, hating that he doesn’t feel comfortable around Harry—hating that Harry probably doesn’t feel comfortable around him. Louis stares at his plate the whole time, overthinking every word he’s planned on saying. He’s silently second-guessing himself. Maybe he shouldn’t even try to make it up to Harry, maybe Louis should just avoid Harry for the rest of his sad, lonely life. It would be much easier.

“I can hear you thinking,” Harry mumbles, mouth full of food. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Um,” Louis stumbles, trying to figure out what to say. He loads his fork full of pulled pork and shoves it into his mouth and chews slowly, trying to buy himself more time before he has to reply to Harry.

What _is_ Louis thinking about? He’s thinking about a lot. He’s thinking about how much he’s hurt Harry, how much he wants to help Harry feel unhurt, and how much he wants to make sure Harry is never hurt again.

“Well?” Harry has now put his plate to the side and is staring at Louis intensely. He’s obviously waiting for Louis to do something. To say sorry, to get up and leave, to explain himself. He’s waiting and Louis is so scared, but he can’t let Harry wait any longer.

Louis runs his hand through his hair nervously, tugging a bit at the strands before speaking. “Harry. I’m so sorry. I ruined your flowers. Something you were so proud of and something you dedicated yourself to.” Louis pauses to take a deep breath. “It breaks my heart that I was the one to destroy them. I know we’ve been on rocky terms this whole entire summer, but I never—never ever—wanted to intentionally harm you or something of yours. I just want you to know how deeply sorry I am and how much I regret my actions. You have every single right to be upset and mad and angry at me—”   

“Louis. Yes, I’m upset the flowers are ruined. I’ve been working _so_ hard on them for such a long period of time. It feels like a lot of my time has been wasted—” Louis’ heart twinges uncomfortably, “—but all I really care about right now is that no one got hurt. You could’ve hurt someone, Louis. _That’s_ why I’m mad at you. Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”

Louis nods solemnly. “I understand I could’ve hurt someone, and I’m so glad I didn’t. But Harry, I really want to make it up to you. I want to show you how sorry I am and that I really want to be your friend. I’ve wanted to be your friend since the first day, but you kept running from me, flower boy.”

Louis watches helplessly as Harry visibly freezes. His voice is ice cold and closed off when he speaks. “Flower boy?”

Louis bites his lip, blushing a little bit. “Uh, yeah.”

Truth be told, Louis came up with the nickname for Harry after he witnessed his little breakdown in the stables that day. Louis truly witnessed the full potential of Harry’s talents and he was in awe. Harry is always able to create beautiful flower crowns and arrangements and Louis always thinks the flowers look so beautiful and so elegant on top of Harry soil-like hair, so rich and deep in color. He thought the name would be very fitting for the boy—he thought Harry would embrace it, but by the way he’s reacting, Louis might be completely wrong.

“Why must you do this, Louis? We were so close to being on the same level again, but no! You had to go and fucking insult me! What do you want from me?” Harry almost shouts.

Louis stutters, trying to analyze Harry’s fast yelling. “I—Harry. _What?_ Insult you?”

“Flower boy! It’s so fucking degrading, Louis! Those Ares boys call me it all the time. They’re so nasty about it,” Harry’s voice cracks. “The first time I heard it, I _loved_ it, but then they had to go and use it to insult me. And now that’s exactly what you’re doing—right?”

“Harry—” Louis gasps. “No! I would never insult you like that. I thought it was a beautiful nickname—I think you’re beautiful. Fuck. I can’t believe Axel and his fucking rats—Harry. Please understand I don’t mean it with ill intent. I can’t believe they’re using something so pure to hurt you. I am so sorry, Harry.”

Harry avoids eye contact, staring directly at his lap. Louis doesn’t blame him, he wouldn’t want to look at himself either.

They sit in silence for a long time, trying to process every heated word they just exchanged. They don’t look at each other, they don’t make any sounds, their breathing is barely audible.

Finally, Louis decides to speak up. “Will you please still let me make it up to you, Harry? Please?” He looks directly at Harry even though the other boy isn’t returning his gaze. Louis desperately wishes he could see green for just even one second.

Harry sighs, finally bringing his green eyes to meet Louis’ blues. “Yes, of course, Louis. Always.”

☤

“You want to—what?!” Harry squeaks outrageously.

It’s the next day and Louis is dressed in his most beat up orange camp t-shirt and light washed jean shorts. He’s standing in front of Cabin Four with Harry, finally explaining his plans to make everything up with Harry.

After Harry and Louis’ heated conversation last night, they were both too tired to drag their bodies across camp back to the Hermes Cabin. The Demeter campers were going be spending the night with Louis and his half-siblings as older Hephaestus campers spent the night repairing any slight damages done to structure. Instead, the pair fell asleep together in the Infirmary—Harry curled up on his bed facing Louis who curled up in his chair. It was an uncomfortable night, but Louis didn’t want to leave Harry alone.  

“I want you to teach me gardening. I want to help replant and regrow the roof, but I don’t have Chlorokinesis, so—teach me how to garden.”

Louis shrugs as Harry stares at him blankly. The idea first came to Louis as he was fetching dinner for him and Harry the other night. He thought it would be a good way to show how genuinely sorry he is while also sneakily trying to spend as much bonding time as possible with Harry. Louis might also actually want to learn some gardening—it’s always fun to try new things.

So Harry teaches Louis how to garden and Louis learns a lot over the next few weeks. He learns that he hates earthworms and how weird and slimy they are. He learns that when dirt gets trapped underneath your fingernails it’s the worst feeling in the world. He learns that chrysanthemums make him sneeze up a storm. He learns that Harry is a bully because he keeps purposely growing chrysanthemums just so he can watch Louis suffer, a smile stretching his face and giggles escaping his petal pink lips. He learns that Harry is beautiful in the soft light of an early morning. He learns that Harry is the weirdest, funniest, prettiest boy he has ever met.

Louis also learns that he’s absolute shit at gardening and he’s wasting Harry’s time rather than actually helping him.

They’ve become rather close with each other over the weeks they’ve been working together. Louis has been no help to Harry the whole time, sitting to the side talking about anything and everything, distracting Harry in the best way possible. Harry was able to regrow the garden in a few days time after Louis stopped attempting to lend a hand, but the pair kept coming up with more and more excuses to spend the mornings and afternoons together—not wanting to lose the special bond they started to cultivate so soon.  

Louis knows they’ve finally become friends now and it warms his heart every time Harry chooses to sit next to Louis at his table of wayward demigods at lunch and dinner rather than sitting with his half-siblings. Louis also knows he has a bit of a crush on Harry—one that makes his heart beat just that tiniest bit fast and causes his stomach to flood with butterflies.

In return for teaching him how to garden, Louis tries teaching Harry how to pick locks—a special little skill any child of Hermes has. Long story short, Harry is _horrible_ at it and every time they attempt to break into something together, they fail miserably. Harry insists that he’s not learning anything, but Louis can’t help but to keep trying. Harry’s just too adorable when he’s frustrated.

There are some days when Louis can’t help but stare at Harry when he isn’t looking. The boy always has flowers in his hair and Louis loves it. Harry is sweet to everyone at the camp and charms the pants off everyone. Louis always feels a tad jealous when they’re spending time together and someone that’s not him captures Harry’s attention. It’s an odd feeling, but Louis continues to try his hardest to keep Harry laughing and smiling. He wants Harry’s eyes on him and he’ll do anything to make it so.

☤

It’s one of those mornings where Louis has purposely woken up before the sun is in the sky just so he could watch it rise with Harry. Louis loves these kinds of mornings—the mornings where he’s grumpy and still sleep rumpled, and Harry is a burst of sunshine and smiles, full of energy and life even at five in the morning.

They meet outside of Harry’s cabin together and then quietly climb up the side of it, Harry’s hand always on the small of Louis’ back, delicately guiding and helping him up. They lay on their backs side by side, staring at the sky. Louis is always very, very aware of how much space is between them at any given moment and he holds his breath, hoping he doesn’t accidentally brush against the beautiful boy next to him. Louis’ arms are folded behind his head, as are Harry’s.

Birds lightly sing in the distance as the entirety of Camp Half-Blood snores away in their beds except for Harry and Louis. They appreciate the silence together, but sometimes Louis wishes they could talk. He has so much he wants to say.

Suddenly, Louis feels Harry’s hip connect with his own, the space between them evaporating. Harry clears his throat and Louis has to force himself to keep his eyes on the rising sun when Harry speaks.

“Have you found your vinyl yet?” Harry’s voice is quiet and apprehensive.

Louis breathes out a shaky breath. “No.”

Harry’s swallow is audible and Louis turns his head just in time to see his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You know I didn’t take—”

“I know,” Louis whispers.

Harry’s head whips around to look at Louis. His eyes are sad and sorry. Louis could get lost in them forever. “We’ll find it, Lou. I promise.”

Louis hums and turns back to look at the rising sun. If he looked at Harry any longer he would have kissed him and he can’t do that just yet. He can’t.

☤

Louis needs to find Harry now. He needs to find him.

Louis races out of his cabin, the wood of the front porch protesting as he runs out the door, not even bothering to close it behind him. His vans sink deep into the muddy ground of the camp as soon as he jumps off the front steps. Two straight days of have rain have not been fun, but it’s Monday now, the beginning of the week, and everyone is hoping and praying the crappy weather will clear soon.

The wind pushes through Louis’ hair and the cold raindrops pelt against his skin as he frantically tries to remember where Harry is at this time of day. He starts running across the field to Harry’s cabin, but halfway there remembers that Harry’s been putting in extra time in the arena, practicing his sword fighting skills more and more. Louis turns on his heels, almost slipping into the muddy ground, but catching himself before he does so. As soon as he regains his footing he bolts towards the arena.

He needs to tell Harry the good news. He’s being a bit dramatic about it, but he needs to tell Harry immediately.

As Louis runs through the rain towards Harry, he can’t help but feel a bit stupid, but as soon as the arena’s in his sight, he starts running faster. His legs ache and he’s breathing hard, but nothing can quell his excitement.

Louis is _this_ close to running into the arena and interrupting everyone training, but someone comes running out at the same moment, crashing wetly into Louis. Louis grabs onto the stranger, successfully stopping them from falling into the mud. Louis is about to push the boy out of his way so he can go find Harry instead but the boy in his arms squeezes his hands around Louis’ biceps even tighter.

“Louis!”

“Harry!”

“Lou!”

Louis smiles brightly, his face hurting. He laughs in the stranger’s face. “Harry! I was just coming to look for you! I have good news.”

Harry absolutely shines under Louis’ attention. Louis finally realizes exactly how close their faces are and if he wanted to he could lean in and—“I was just about to come look for you too, Lou!” Harry interrupts, laughing joyfully. “I have good news, too! You first, Lou. You first.”

Louis bites his lip, trying his hardest not to smile and laugh like a lovesick idiot. Excitement is a beautiful emotion on Harry. He stares into Harry’s green eyes, caught in a trance by their fresh cut grass color. “I—Uh. I,” Louis stumbles, too affected by Harry’s intense gaze and their closeness to find the words that were just running around in his head seconds ago. “I found out who took my vinyl.” Louis’ voice is soft, very much unlike how it was seconds go—full of energy and excitement. His eyes linger on Harry’s lips as he speaks.

Harry gasps, truly happy for Louis. Harry’s eyes shine, causing Louis to finally tear his gaze away from his friend’s petal pink lips. Louis doesn’t know what’s more beautiful—the happiness radiating from Harry’s smile, or the excitement shining in his eyes. “That’s awesome, Lou!” His voice is soft and quiet, just like Louis’, but carries the delight Louis lacked. “Who was it?”

They’re still standing in the middle of a downpour, too wrapped up in each other to notice just how wet they are, their clothes hanging heavily from their bodies. A breeze blows in between their bodies and Louis shivers, but it’s a reaction to Harry’s arms around him, not the weather.

“It was fucking Gianna, my half-sister,” Louis laughs, shaking his head. “She thought it would be funny to take it and give it back a day or two later, but then totally forgot she had it until today. Can’t believe it.”

Harry giggles, his cheeks turning pink. “That’s great, Lou. Told you I didn’t take it.”

Louis sticks his tongue out playfully, causing Harry to giggle some more. “Now what’s your good news, mister?”

Harry smiles shyly and dips his eyes down. Louis is very aware of how close they still are.

“Capture the Flag, this Friday. Chiron’s gonna let me finally play. Says I’m finally good enough to try to fend for myself.”

Louis gasps. “Harry! That’s amazing!” He pulls Harry into an extremely tight hug, squeezing the boy in his arms to show how proud he is.

Capture the Flag is the longest standing Camp Half-Blood tradition. The matches happen every Friday from six to nine at night in the forest. Campers split themselves into two teams and play amongst each other, where capturing the opponent’s flag and carrying it across the dividing river is the objective. It’s extremely dangerous, with monsters lurking around in the dark, and real weapons being used against them and other campers, but it’s also the most beneficial training exercise at the camp. The game truly puts what the demigods learn into action, helping them hone their skills, training them for the real world where they have to fight off monsters.

Every camper plays, with the exception of the Aphrodite Cabin and injured demigods. Harry, being new to Camp Half-Blood and unable to even pick up a sword by himself, had been sitting out with the Aphrodite kids, but everyone knows he’s been itching to finally play a match. He’s gone the entire summer sitting on the sidelines and cheering everyone on with the Aphrodite kids, but for once he wants to be the one receiving the cheering, not giving.

Louis knows this is such a big deal for Harry and he’s so, so proud of him. He tells him as much and they stand there in the rain just hugging each other, not really wanting to let go.

☤

Louis is worried about Harry. The game started an hour ago and Louis hasn’t seen Harry once. They’re on opposing teams—Athena, Apollo, and Hermes against Hephaestus, Demeter, Ares, Dionysus, and the minor gods—and Louis knows that he probably wouldn’t come face to face with Harry, but it’s still worrisome. He hopes Harry’s defending himself and his team well. He hopes Harry’s using his Chlorokinesis to his advantage. Louis hopes Harry has had a chance to go on offensive and show some off the skills he has learned.

Louis can’t obsess over how Harry’s doing right now, though. They’re on opposing teams and Louis really, really wants to win this for his team. Maddison, the team captain and one of the smartest strategists in the Athena Cabin, had come up with a foolproof plan of attack that is supposed to go in effect at any minute now and Louis has to focus. He has to focus on crossing the river and finding where the Red Team hid their flag. He needs to retrieve it and bring it back to his side. He needs to win, he always needs to win.

Darkness has started to descend and visibility is becoming low and dangerous in the forest. Louis is alone by his post, waiting for the signal. His heavy breathing is the only sound he can hear. He knows if he listened harder he could probably hear swords clashing in the distance—but he’s focusing. Louis needs to focus.

He goes over the plan in his head. Cross the river with minimal difficulty, fight the two guards that will most likely be there. Then take the dangerous path to the far right which will most likely have the least amount of monsters—all of them having moved in towards the center of the forest by now—but the hardest terrain. After that, he should have an easy route to the flag with minimal demigods in his way to defeat. But that should be easy. Louis is a master swordfighter after all.

Louis lays low and keeps his eyes and ears peeled. He waits and waits and then he hears it. The tiniest beep that acts as his signal.

Louis is on the move immediately, grasping his sword tight and expertly. He moves fast and quiet, feet barely disturbing the ground as he moves. He’s had years of practice. He knows this forest like the back of his hand. Although the forest is alive and constantly changing, Louis can always find his way through it.

He crosses the river easily, the water cold around his ankles. Once he reaches the shore, he’s face to face with Elena, a daughter of Ares whose strength lies in using daggers as a weapon. Louis easily overtakes her, causing her to trip over her feet and fall to the ground. Louis runs away quickly, deciding to go left instead of right, just in case she decides to follow him. He veers back on course once he knows he’s finally made it through undetected.

Louis is close. He knows it. He can _taste_ victory, it’s so close.

The messy sound of clashing swords causes Louis to freeze in his tracks. No one should be close by. If everyone on his team had stuck to their plan, no one should be anywhere near Louis—it would give away his position. And their plan should be so tight that no one from the other team should know where Louis is. It’s eerie and causes Louis to falter. And then he hears a pained whimper. It sounds scarily familiar.

Before Louis knows what’s happening, his feet are carrying him toward the sound of a hurt boy instead of the other team’s flag. His brain is yelling at him to stop and turn around—he is a master at sneaking around, this is his moment! His heart, on the other hand, is telling him something has gone wrong, very wrong, and he needs to help.

Louis runs into a tiny clearing and frantically looks around, his heart beating out of his chest. When his eyes finally find the figure of Harry Styles crumpled up on the forest floor in a ball, he actually feels like his heart is _outside_ of his chest. Harry is making pained noises, but Louis can tell the boy is trying to hold them in, gritting his teeth so hard Louis can hear them grinding on each other.

Louis falls to his knees at Harry’s side, scared and imagining the worst thing possible. “Harry,” he pants, air suddenly escaping his lungs fast than he’s breathing it in. “Harry, please tell me you’re okay. Are you okay? Love, are you okay, please. Look at me? Can you say something?”

Harry lets out an audible breath.

“Harry?”

“Guess I’m a lover, not a fighter, Lou,” Harry giggles.

Louis instantly relaxes and lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. Harry’s okay. Harry’s cracking jokes and not crying in pain. Harry’s okay. He’s safe. He’s okay. “Gods, you really scared me for a second.”

Harry moves to sit up and Louis helps him lean against a tree. They sit side by side and Louis can’t help but let his eyes wander Harry’s armor-covered body. He’s looking for injuries. That’s all. After a few head-to-toe glances, Louis deems him relatively safe and free of any open, bleeding wounds.

“What happened?”

Harry blushes. “I was actually following you.”

Louis balks at the admission. “You were? How?”

“I was the second guard down at the river, but I was hidden and you really didn’t notice me. I decided to follow you and I guess I was doing a pretty okay job until someone from your team caught me. Some Athena girl I think,” Harry shrugs. “Obviously better with a sword than I am. I tried holding on my own, but it really wasn’t working out. She knocked it out of my hand, stepped on my foot and pushed me down.” Harry laughs at himself lightheartedly. “I guess I wasn’t really ready for fighting. I’m not even cut out for it at all.”

The part of the forest they’re in is extremely quiet and secluded. Louis can’t help but just stare at Harry. Harry’s words are lost on Louis. Harry’s presence it so magnetic and Louis will always be pulled into Harry’s orbit, no matter how far apart they are. There has to be a reason why Louis was the one who heard Harry, there has to be a reason why they’re sitting hip to hip, arm pressed against arm, in the middle of a wide clearing.

“Oh shush,” Louis finally reprimands, remembering that he should reply to Harry. “You just don’t know how to fight. You had a crap teacher.” Louis shrugs, eyes still glued to Harry’s. He can barely see their brilliant green color in the dark of the night, but he knows it’s there, staring right back at his midnight blues.

Harry swallows, his voice soft and shaky as he speaks. “Maybe you should…” his eyes briefly flicker down to Louis’ lips before returning to his eyes, “…teach me how to fight.”

Louis nods dumbly. “Yeah,” his own eyes fall to Harry’s lips quickly. “That would be fun.”

Their eye contact is so intense, Louis feels like he’s going to combust. He feels like he will actually catch on fire from how hot Harry’s gaze is on him. Harry subtly tries to bite his bottom lip, but Louis’ eyes catch the movement and follow it as his top teeth sink into the pink flesh. Suddenly he feels disgustingly nervous.

After the first graze of Harry’s lips against his, Louis’ nervousness melts away. He shifts his body so the angle is more comfortable, he drops the sword his hand was still clutching and instead moves it to the side of Harry’s cheek, caressing the skin gently. Harry happily humming only spurs Louis on as he nips against Harry’s lips, his tongue gently sliding through the opening.

Harry kisses with his whole body. He leans forwards and tilts his head. His hands rest against Louis’ hips and he squeezes tightly in response to Louis quickening the pace of the kiss. Harry smells like flowers despite having sat in the dirt and wandering around a forest the past two hours. He tastes sweet against Louis’ mouth, like sugary fruit and delicious honey, and Louis thinks about how he could kiss Harry all day. They giggle into each others mouths when they briefly pull apart to gasp in a bit of air before they reconnect their lips.

Louis’ about ready to jump into Harry’s lap and straddle him—to get a better angle, you know? But then a loud, unimpressed throat clearing comes from behind them. Louis startles and rips his lips off of Harry as quickly as possible, turning his head to find Liam Payne intruding on them.

Louis rolls his eyes at his friend and looks back at Harry, who is blushing a ridiculous shade of bright red that’s totally noticeable under the darkness of night. Louis can’t help but giggle at how cute _and_ wrecked Harry looks in the moment. If Harry is this affected by kissing then Louis wonders what he would look like during—  

“Uh, guys,” Liam coughs. “The game is over. We. We—uh. We won. Louis, you guys lost.” Liam is blushing too, avoiding even looking at the pair of them. He deserts them after that, probably not wanting to stick around to witness any other intimate moments.

Louis can’t help but giggle into Harry’s shoulder nonsensically. He didn’t lose at all. If anything, both Harry _and_ Louis won tonight. Screw Capture the Flag.

☤

So they kiss. A lot.

They kiss in the morning on the roof of the Demeter Cabin as they watch the sunrise over Camp Half-Blood. They kiss behind the stables before Harry’s flying lessons. They kiss in the cool waters of the lake on the weekends. They kiss each time Harry improves his sword fighting skills during their private, one-on-one lessons. They kiss during the campfire singalongs after they request for Niall to strum out _Wouldn’t It Be Nice_ on his guitar. They kiss each other goodnight before separating and going to their own cabins, secretly wishing they could fall asleep in each other's arms.

Harry and Louis spend all of their time together—as much of it as possible. Weekends are their favorites, the two peaceful days of the week where they have no schedule or rules to follow. They can literally do whatever they want, and they do. But that usually just consists of lots of cuddling and talking to each other in hushed voices in Louis’ bed. As a Head Counselor, Louis has his own bedroom, so they don’t have to worry about wandering eyes or listening ears like they would have to in Harry’s shared room.

Louis loves holding Harry’s hand, he loves kissing his cheek, he loves watching him blush. He loves watching Harry grow into himself at Camp Half-Blood and become the talented demigod that Louis knows he is possible of being. They love learning about each other and talking about their homes and the people they love.

As they lay in the darkness of Louis’ bedroom, purposefully skipping the campfire for the fourth night in a row so they can spend time together before curfew, they talk about their family. The room is pleasantly cool, the heat wave that gripped the camp for a week finally all gone. They’re both in orange camp shirts and their boxer briefs, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled. Harry’s skin is smooth against Louis’ own, in the most pleasant way. Louis’ body erupts in goosebumps every time Harry gently runs the tips of his fingers over the skin at the back of his neck, tugging loosely at the strands of hair there.

Louis tells Harry about Philadelphia—about how he wants to show Harry the city, it is only one quick train ride away from New York City. He tells him about his endless stream of lovely, wonderful siblings, and his brilliant, gorgeous mother. He tells Harry all about Philly sports teams and the historical landmarks in Olde City. He tells Harry how he imagines them walking down the Schuylkill River Trail, hands joined, on a bright sunny spring day. He tells Harry how he wishes he could take him to Rittenhouse Square so they could have a picnic, kiss in the wide open, and dog watch.

Harry tells Louis about Napa and his home. He tells him how much he misses it. He misses watching the sunsets from his bedroom, he misses wandering the vineyards and picking grapes straight off the vine when his anxiety becomes too much. He tells Louis how he wants to take him to the west coast beaches so they could trying surfing together. He wants to take Louis on hikes and kiss him at the top of mountains as the sun sets over the valleys. He wants to have Louis taste the wine their family makes—he wants Louis to try the first barrel of wine Harry ever made. Harry was supposed to bottle his wine this summer, the two years of aging finally coming to an end, but his abrupt vacation to Camp Half-Blood had ruined those plans. But now Harry has the opportunity to have his _boyfriend_ be the first person to taste his own wine, so he doesn’t mind so much.

They kiss when they want to, in between their stories about home. But for some reason, Harry isn’t into it. His lips are slow and unresponsive, almost like his mind isn’t present. Louis is worried as he pulls away from Harry’s soft pink lips. He lets his eyes search Harry’s face for any sign of what’s wrong, but it’s simply black and devoid of emotions.

“Harry, babe, what’s wrong?” Louis asks quietly, gently touching his palm to the boy’s cheek.

Harry’s eyes slowly find focus on Louis’ face and Harry frowns. “I miss home,” he whispers, voice broken.

Louis’ heart breaks a little. He doesn’t know what to say or do. He experienced years worth of homesickness before he felt totally at home here at Camp Half-Blood. He could never imagine what Harry’s been feeling the past months. There’s nothing Louis can do except hold Harry tight as tiny tears slip silently down his cheeks.

☤

“I know you’ve been missing home, babe, so I thought this—I don’t know—might help?” Louis blushes, his cheeks on fire, even though Harry can’t see him.  

Louis’ sweaty palms wrap themselves around Harry’s hands as he pulls him towards their secret destination. Louis insisted that Harry wear a blindfold despite his intense clumsiness and complaining. He might have tripped a few times on the way, but Louis held him tight and kissed the back of his hand every time in apology.

Harry’s homesickness has been obvious for quite a few days and Louis knows he’s missing his happy place. Louis doesn’t want Harry to forget about his home, but rather Louis would love for Harry to feel like Camp Half-Blood is a second home for him. He doesn’t want Camp Half-Blood to be a replacement, nor a prison for Harry, but somewhere as equally comfortable as home.

Louis doesn’t know how Harry has avoided visiting the Strawberry Fields the whole entire summer, but Louis feels a bit prideful knowing that he’s going to be the first person showing Harry the endless rows and rows of fruit that make up the fields. Louis knows it’s not the same as Harry’s vineyards, but he’s hoping it’ll bring the same comfort and love—the specific kind of comfort and love Harry’s been starved of the whole summer.

“Just a few more steps and then we can take your blindfold off, I promise.”

“I hope you don’t jump scare me or anything, Lou,” Harry pouts.

Louis giggles. “Darn… you caught me!”

“Lou,” Harry whines.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Now stand still so I don’t accidently pull any hair out.” Louis playfully tugs a hair, causing Harry to complain with a tiny _“heyyy!”_ and a giggle. He stands still anyway as Louis carefully undos the knot at the back of Harry’s head.

“Alright babe, here we go.” Louis pulls the fabric away from Harry’s eyes and steps back, letting Harry have this moment for himself.

Louis led Harry through the fields to the point where he could open his eyes and look out in all directions and see only the fields—no camp, no people, no distractions. Strawberries hang down low by their ankles, the sky is a crystal clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun above them is soft on their skin and eyes.

Harry spins in tiny circles as he surveys the area. As he spins towards Louis, he can see a slight sheen to his eyes. Harry’s tears cause a reaction in Louis, whose own eyes start watering.

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry gasps, voice broken. Harry’s eyes find Louis’ and they’re so full of so many emotions that Louis can’t even begin to understand so he looks away, blushing. Harry starts walking towards Louis, hands outstretched ready to hold onto his boy.

Louis clears his throat. “I can go if you, uh, if you wanna be alone. I’d understand.”

“No, Lou,” Harry whispers, hands gently reaching for and grasping onto Louis’ wrists. “I want you here with me, please. Can we sit?” Louis quietly nods.

As they attempt to rearrange themselves on the ground, they find it more comfortable to be laying down. Harry doesn’t mind lying in the grass and dirt, but Louis still regrets not bringing a blanket for them. Louis rests against Harry’s chest, his ear pressed to his beating heart, their bodies pressed together. Louis stays silent to let Harry think all he wants as they surround themselves in nature.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry whispers. “It means—a lot. It means so much. Thank you.”

Louis lifts his head to finally look Harry in the eye. It’s not the first time Louis’ been stunned by the magnificent green color of the boy’s eyes, but seeing them this close, when they’re fully surrounded by nature and all things green, the color seems amplified. Louis is so overcome by the emotion Harry’s eyes are trying to communicate, that he can’t help but reach up and delicately place his lips to Harry’s own.

They kiss, slow and soft. Every touch, every pucker, every suck, every lick—it all means something. Harry’s arms are carefully wrapped around Louis’ waist and his hands, hidden beneath Louis’ shirt, rub soothing circles into the skin of his back. Louis’ own hands cup Harry’s jaw, his fingers running along the sharp angles of it.

When they pull apart slowly, Louis tries shifting his weight, but finds that he can’t. He bends to look down at his feet and finds his and Harry’s ankles wrapped together in the leaves and stems of the fruit, tiny little strawberries rapidly growing around them.

“Harry,” Louis giggles, gesturing to their connection.

“Oops, that would be my fault,” Harry laughs, biting his bottom lip.

Louis shakes his head fondly, turning his face back to hover closely over Harry’s. “Hi,” he whispers, inches from his face. Harry bites his lip even harder, his eyes crinkling at the corners from the smile he’s trying so hard not to break into. “You’re amazing.”

Louis doesn’t wait for a reply before he’s crashing his lips back against Harry’s.

When Louis thought this would be the best summer ever, he didn’t think it would play out like this. But now, as he and Harry lay in the Strawberry Fields, surrounded by nothing but the sweet fruit, he doesn’t regret anything. If given the chance, Louis wouldn’t change a thing that happened this summer—it all happened for a reason and it led him straight to Harry Styles.

**Author's Note:**

> here you'll find my [tumblr](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/) and here you can find my [rebloggable fic post](http://hrrytomlinson.tumblr.com/post/165455137700/how-far-weve-come-by-hrrytomlinson-for)!! thanks for reading and i hope you like it - if you do please leave some kudos and comments or reblog the post? xx


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